•P4 


STORY 


OF 


TRAIN 


OF 

CARS 


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odr 


THE  STORY  OF  A 


TRAIN  OF  CARS. 


A  TALE  OF  TRAVEL 


'Even   the   Moslems   now   go   to   Mecca   by   Special   Train." 

NEWSPAPER. 


BY 

WALLACE    PECK. 


NEW  YORK : 

AUTHORS  PUBLISHING  ASSOCIATION, 
1 14  Fifth  Avenue. 


COPYRIGHT,  1895, 
BY  WALLACE  PECK. 


Bancroft  Library 


QUEEN    ANNE   CAR. 

CHAPTER  I. 

SEEKING  NOTORIETY. 

FAME  had  never  looked  up  my  address  in  the  directory, 
nor  come  a-ringing  my  front  door  bell.  Up  to  a  certain 
stage  of  my  career  I  was  not  disappointed  at  this,  for  I 
knew  that  Fame  has  a  very  limited  calling  acquaintance, 
and  I  did  not  mind  being  snubbed  in  company  with  sixty 
odd  millions  of  my  ordinary  fellow  countrymen. 

But  after  having  lived  a  life  of  common  things,  somebody 
suddenly  dropped  a  colossal  fortune  into  my  lap,  whereupon 
I  concluded  it  was  high  time  to  give  over  the  life  of  a  (irub 
and  become  a  Butterfly.  I  decided  to  turn  from  my  old 
hum  drum  ways  and  do  something  Unique,  the  notoriety  of 
which  might  at  least  raise  me  from  my  present  insignificance, 
and  make  me  a  much-talked-about  man.  Surely  I  could 
not  be  blamed  for  at  last  developing  an  ambition,  and  one 
so  thoroughly  American,  by  the  way ! 

To  quietly  wait  for  a  normal  growth  of  notoriety  promised 
to  be  too  slow  a  process — some  people  might  jog  along  for 
many  centuries  before  growing  to  prominence — so  I  decided 


4  THE   STORY    OF    A    TRAIN   OF   CARS. 

to  take  aggressive  measures,  and  at  once.  I  accordingly 
turned  over  in  my  mind  many  schemes  with  a  view  to  the 
adoption  of  that  one  which  would  the  most  readily  establish 
me  as  a  notoriety. 

After  some  casting  about  for  notoriety-breeders  I  un- 
expectedly got  my  cue  from  Chauncey  Depew.  That 
gentleman,  when  once  asked  abroad  what  was  in  his  opinion 
the  most  striking  characteristic  of  the  Americans,  replied 
that  they  were  a  traveling  people,  because  they  never  got  a 
few  dollars  together  that  they  did  not  spend  them  to  go 
somewhere. 

I  would  go  a-touring  on  a  special  train  ! 

In  this  undertaking  I  would  be  sure  of  a  vast  audience, 
for  if  there  is  any  one  thing  which  receives  the  attention 
of  the  people  of  these  United  States,  it  is  railroading.  I 
would  take  advantage  of  this  interest,  and  hold  my  audience 
spell-bound  by  a  tour  so  novel  as  to  throw  into  the  shade 
the  many  unique  trips  which  this  country  has  already  seen. 

Let  me  give  a  brief  history  of  my  train  of  cars,  and  then 
judge  if  I  was  not  entitled  to  the  notoriety  which  resulted 
from  the  carrying  out  of  my  scheme. 


CHINESE   CAR. 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE    TRAIN    OF   CARS. 

IMAGINE  persons  of  vast  wealth  contenting  themselves 
with  living  in  three  rooms — a  bedroom,  a  parlor  and 
a  dining  room.  Yet  this  is  the  very  thing  the  rich  do  when 
they  take  one  of  those  private  railway  journeys  of  to-day  ; 
and  the  queerest  part  is  that  they  feel  very  grand  over  it 
all,  acting  as  if  they  were  living  on  a  really  large  scale,  while 
in  reality  they  simply  exist  in  a  parlor  car,  a  sleeper  and  a 
dining  car. 

Now,  I  decided  that  my  train  should  be  no  less  than 
a  whole  house  on  wheels, — in  fact  everything  but  the 
mortgage.  Why  should  I  live  more  contracted  on  a  train 
than  at  home  ? 

So,  besides  the  regulation  cars  just  mentioned,  my  train 
had  a  private  Cellar  Car,  and  during  the  trip  I  derived  much 
pleasure  from  entering  it  with  a  lighted  candle  and  groping 
round  for  favorite  pippins  and  hard  cider,  or  bringing  forth 
a  jar  of  home  made  preserves.  I  insisted  that  everyone  on 
the  train  should  treat  this  car  as  if  it  were  just  what  it 
purported  to  be — a  cellar. 


6  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

After  the  usual  Dining  Car  came  my  Front  Parlor  Car, 
following  which  was  the  Back  Parlor  Car.  Many  people 
take  much  more  comfort  in  the  back  parlor  than  in  the  front, 
so  I  determined  to  have  the  former  room  represented.  Then 
came  my  own  private  conveyance, — a  First-Floor-Front- 
Hall-Bedroom  Car,  following  which  the  various  other  sleep- 
ing rooms  were  represented  in  their  order.  Then  came  the 
Garden  Car.  This  was  an  open  flat  car,  the  floor  of  which 
was  covered  with  a  thick,  rich  soil,  from  which  I  was  to 
supply  my  fresh  vegetables  ;  and  many  a  morning  when  the 
train  was  rushing  along  at  thirty  miles  an  hour,  I  could 
be  seen  placidly  hoeing  its  surface,  getting  health  and 
happiness  from  this  direct  contact  with  Mother  Earth.  I 
had  peas  sprouting  before  we  completed  our  journey. 

Next  came  the  Moorish  Theatre  Car,  on  whose  mimic 
boards  even  Sweet  Will  was  heard  to  speak.  Over  the  roof 
of  this  car  arose  a  tall  minaret,  which,  of  course,  could 
be  lowered  when  we  ran  into  tunnel  territory.  Last  of 
all  was  what  I  called  my  Bon  Marche  Car.  I  argued  that 
during  a  long  trip  we  would  run  short  of  many  necessary 
things,  therefore,  what  could  be  more  useful  than  a  general 
store  connected  with  the  train,  where  we  could  go  and 
replenish  ?  Besides,  the  presence  of  such  a  car  would  afford 
my  women  guests  a  chance  to  indulge  in  that  feminine  craze 
— going  shopping.  This  car  was  complete,  even  to  a 
bargain  counter,  and  a  cash  railway.  Recognizing  the 
revival  of  architecture  in  this  country,  I  had  each  car  made 
of  some  distinctive  type — one  Grecian,  another  Moorish, 
another  Queen  Anne,  still  another,  Chinese,  and  so  on.  One 
concern  submitted  designs  for  a  Chinese  locomotive,  but 
the  plan  was  not  approved.  The  grand  result  of  this 
architectural  medley  was  that  the  old  conventional  car  body 
was  not  in  evidence  on  my  train.  I  have  often  wondered 
why  car  builders  have  not  made  some  attempt  at  diversi- 
fying the  exterior  of  cars,  as  they  certainly  have  done  with 


THE  STORY  OF  A  TRAIN  OK  CAks.  7 

the  interiors.  They  seem  to  be  content  with  turning  out, 
year  after  year,  a  car  body  built  according  to  the  lines  of 
the  dry-goods-box  school  of  architecture. 

The  next  step  was  to  get  fitting  names  for  all  these  cars, 
and  while  thinking  over  the  matter  I  remembered  a  report, 
that  a  member  of  the  Pullman  family  receives  for  pin  money 
$1,000  per  annum  to  supply  those  Oh-how-euphonious  na; 
which  are  painted  on  sleepers,  drawing  and  parlor  cars. 

Here  was  my  cue.  I  called  in  the  services  of  my  friend, 
Prof.  Braine,  and  offered  him  $2,000  for  a  set  of  names 
which  would  be  congenial  and  neighborly  when  strung  along 
the  sides  of  the  train.  The  professor  retired  to  a  quiet 
hamlet,  brooded  a  few  days  over  the  problem,  and  one 
morning  handed  me  the  following  study  in  the  euphony  of 
India  : 

Cellar  Car     -  - 

Dining  Car 

Front  Parlor  Car  "  Chidambaram" 

Hack  Parlor  Car  "  Poojambce" 

\  irst-Floor-Front-Hall-BedroomCar"  Bandoogurli." 

-  ^  Joontiagudda. ' ' 
"////  nd-i-Dulahr 

Five  Sleeping  Cars    \  •    "Mahanuddy." 

"  Aulaypoolay" 

-  "  Dhumta 

(iarden  Car       -  "  Mosungabad" 

Theatre  Car  •*  Mazuffcrabad" 

Bon  March*  Car  •  Iturrickpoorgurh. ' ' 

At  the  first  glance  it  seemed  as  if  this  crop  of  names  was 

hardly  worth  two  thousand  dollars ;  but  when  I  remembered 
that  even  far-away  Japan  has  contributed  many  names  for 
our  sleepers  and  parlor  cars,  I  concluded  that  it  was  only 
right  to  give  India  a  chance.  I  became  of  the  opinion 
that  Professor  Braine  could  give  points  to  the  most 
hardened  car-namer,  but  am  afraid,  however,  a  narrow  gauge 


THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

road  could  not  stand  the  strain  of  such  words  as  he  supplied. 
Subsequently,  with  the  Professor's  permission,  I  changed 
the  name  of  the  last  car  to  "  Finis"  (rather  appropriate  I 
thought)  and  my  special  First-Floor-Front-Hall-Bedroom 
Car  I  rechristened  "  Countess  Terwilliger."  My  dear  Aunt 
Terwilliger  was  not  a  countess,  but  I  had  often  felt  that, 
had  America  possessed  a  monarchy,  she  would  have  been 
undoubtedly  of  that  rank,  which  amounts  to  the  same 
thing.  My  dear  aunt  suggested  that  the  five  sleepers 
be  rechristened  "  Gape,"  uYawn,"  "Nod,"  "  Snore "  and 
"  Nightmare,"  respectively,  this  arrangement  representing 
the  different  stages  by  which  Morpheus  attacks  and  finally 
conquers  us. 

Our  locomotive  was  a  record  breaker — that  is  to  say,  a 
record  breaker  of  1845.  While  it  was  never  ahead  of  time 
it  was  ahead  of  the  times  in  one  respect,  for  instead  of 
having  the  regulation  headlight,  I  had  a  150,000  candle 
power  search  light  attached  to  its  front.  This  light  was 
connected  with  the  "Terwilliger"  (I  mean  the  car,  not  the 
woman)  by  electricity,  which  enabled  me  to  focus  it  on  any 
object  at  will  ;  and  we  all  derived  great  delight  at  night  by 
using  it  to  draw  the  landscape  out  of  the  darkness,  as  it 


SIGHTSEEING    BY    SEARCH    LIGHT. 


THE   STORY    OK    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  9 

were.  We  were  not  like  ordinary  travelers  whose  sight- 
seeing is  over  when  night  begins. 

They  tell  of  a  new  brakeman  who,  at  the  beginning  of  his 
career,  used  to  call  out  with  great  distinctness  "Broad  Street, 
Newark."  After  a  while  he  changed  this  to  "  Brorstreenoah;" 
and  finally,  in  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf  of  brakemanship,  he 
settled  down  to  "  Buspinore."  I  decided  not  to  tolerate 
any  of  this  sort  of  thing  on  my  train,  so  I  placed  in  each 
car  a  loud-speaking  phonograph,  and  when  a  station  was 
reached  the  passengers  would  hear  the  instrument  proclaim 
something  like  this:  "This  station  is  Jug  Town,  North 
Carolina,  United  States  of  America,  Northern  Hemisphere. 
Did  you  catch  the  name  ?  J-u-g-t-o-w-n  Jug  Town.  Popu- 
lation 3,841.  It  is  a  no-license  town  with  eighteen  drug 
stores.  President  of  the  Town  Board  is  Watts  Yoors.  I'm 
talking  about  J-u-g-t-o-w-n  Jug  Town.  R.  Thayer  Mysize, 
a  drummer,  was  recently  shot  here  for  calling  it  Bugtown." 
By  means  of  this  simple  contrivance  there  was  never  any 
doubt  as  to  where  we  were,  and,  besides,  we  gained  at  the 
same  time  an  immense  amount  of  local  history. 

The  conventional  special  railway  trip  begins  at  some  one 
of  the  great  American  cities,  and  its  objects  of  interest  are 
the  other  great  American  cities  strung  along  the  continent. 

I  was  not  looking  for  this  sort  of  thing.  Please  bear  in 
mind  that  I  was  after  the  unique. 

The  .exact  physical  centre  of  the  United  States  is  said  to 
be  a  grave  stone  in  a  cemetery  at  Fort  Riley,  Kansas.  That 
I  determined  to  be  my  starting  point.  I  would  begin  at  the 
centre,  and  in  a  series  of  ever-widening  circles  finally  cover 
all  of  Uncle  Sam's  territory.  Then  as  to  the  objective 
points.  While  debating  the  subject  I  came  across  the 
following  in  Irving's  Astoria  : 

*' We  cannot  but  pause  to  lament  the  stupid,  commonplace,  and  often 
ribald  names  entailed  upon  the  rivers  and  other  features  of  the  great 
West,  by  traders  and  settlers.  *  *  *  Indeed  it  is  to  be  wished  that 
the  whole  of  our  country  could  be  rescued  as  much  as  possible  from  the 
wretched  nomenclature  inflicted  upon  it  by  ignorant  and  vulgar  minds/' 


10 


THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 


Here  was  a  hint,  and  I  soon  became  possessed  with  the 
idea  that  it  would  be  not  only  novel  but  great  sport  to  confine 
my  trip  to  all  the  vulgarly  named  places  in  the  United 
States  ;  so,  with  that  end  in  view,  I  laboriously  hunted 
through  the  latest  Post  Office  Guide.  The  result  of  the 
search  was  truly  astonishing  for  here  are  some  of  the  names 
I  found  : 


A.  B.  C., Tenn. 

Accident, Md. 

Adieu, Tex. 

American  Flag,.. Tex. 
Bachelor's  Hall,. Va. 
Bird  in  Hand, . .  .Penn. 
Bumble  Bee,. .  ..Ariz. 

Calf  Killer Tenn. 

Chat, Cal. 

Chromo, Colo. 

Comical  Corners,N.  J. 
Dead  Horse, . .  .  .Neb. 

(afterwards  changed  to  Live 
Horse,  then  to  Rose  Dale) 

Dime,   La. 

Doctor  Town, . .  .Ga. 

Doorway, Ky. 

Dull, Tenn. 

Finis, Tex. 

Finger, Miss. 

Fort  Spunky, . . ..Tex. 

Funny  Louis, La. 

Grubgulch, Cal. 

Hard  Times,. .  ..La. 

Jug  Town, N.  C. 

Last  Chance, . .  ..la. 

Leap  Year, Tenn. 

Limbs, Tenn. 

(Weakley  Co.) 

Looking  Glass, ..Neb.  and 
Oregon. 
Looneyville, . .  . .  N.  Y. 

Moral, Okl. 

New  Design,. . .  .111. 
New  Moon, Ark. 


Nine  Times,.    .  .S.  C. 

Not, Mo. 

O.  K Ky,  Miss. 

and  S.  C. 

Only, Tenn. 

Overalls, Penn. 

Pay  Up, Ga. 

Piano, Ky. 

Quick,   Neb. 

Quote, Mo. 

Rabbit  Hash,..  .Ky. 

Rapture, Kan. 

Shoo  Fly, la. 

Shortly, Del. 

Short  Off, N.  C. 

Sleepy  Eye, Minn. 

Sober, Penn. 

Squirejim, W.  Va. 

Sub  Rosa, Ark. 

Sweet  Home, ....  Ark. 

Tin  Cup, Colo. 

Tombstone, Ariz. 

Toonigh, Ga. 

Total  Wreck, Ariz. 

Trim  Belle,.. .   .Wis. 

U  Bet, Tenn. 

Useful, Mo. 

Useless, Wash. 

Vimville, Miss. 

Wakeup, Ohio. 

Walkchalk Penn. 

Waterproof, La. 

Why  Not, N.  C. 

Yellville, Ariz. 


1HI     STORY    OK    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  11 

What  a  train  of  mournful  ideas  follows  the  scanning 
of  these  names.  You  wonder  how  you  would  like  to  be 
addressed  as  the  Mayor  of  Calf  Killer;  or,  if  a  woman,  you 
start  at  the  possibility  of  being  known  as  the  Belle  of  Last 
Chance,  or  the  Beauty  of  Total  Wreck.  You  conclude  that 
geography  is  cruel  to  place  Last  Chance  in  Iowa  and  Leap 
r  in  far  away  Tennessee.  These  two  should  have  been  (as 
they  are  in  the  list)  side  by  side,  with  the  town  of  Why  Not  in 
sight.  How  would  you  like  to  inform  your  friends  that  you 
were  a  Bogus  (Cal.)  lawyer,  about  to  take  the  trip  fn»m 
Useful. (Mo.)  to  Useless  (Wash.)?  or,  if  a  Prohibitionist, 
that  you  were  soon  to  move  from  Tin  Cup  (Col.)  to  Jug 
Town  (N.  C.)  ?  One  jem  of  delicacy,  however,  is  set  in  the 
vulgar  list,  and  the  reader  will  find  it  in  the  name  which 
follows  Leap  Year,  Tenn.  Thanks  to  the  Boston  man  who 
called  his  new  settlement  Limbs. 

So  this  was  my  itinerary — my  train  was  to  make  objective 
points  of  as  many  of  the  above  places  as  could  be  reached 
by  railroad.  Here  at  last  was  one  continental  trip  where 
the  charms  of  Washington,  Chicago,  St.  Louis,  Denver  and 
San  Francisco  would  have  to  surrender  to  the  sterling 
attractions  offered  by  Tin  Cup,  Nine  Times,  Only,  and  Total 
Wreck. 

Since  my  cars,  taken  collectively,  constituted  a  house  on 
wheels,  what  more  natural  than  that  I  should  place  my 
housekeeper,  Mrs.  McGovern,  in  charge  ;  and,  as  she  had 
always  managed  my  stationary  house,  she  was  now  delegated 
to  run  my  portable  mansion.  There  was  no  conductor  on 
that  train—  Mrs.  M<  Govern  had  charge;  and,  as  her  late 
husband  had  been  an  old  railroad  man,  she  assumed  this 
function  with  an  easy  assurance.  In  the  widening  of 
woman's  sphere,  why  not  a  woman  train  conductor?  In 
Chili  they  have  them  already  on  the  street  cars. 

Trouble  resulted  from  this  arrangement,  but  of  same, 
later. 


A    CHINESE    LOCOMOTIVE. 
(Design  by  UN  HUNG.) 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    TOURING    PARTY. 

VHAT  bachelor  does  not  recall  the  moment  when  some 
friend  slapped  him  on  the  back  ;  and,  referring  to  a 
particular  maiden,  cried  :  "  Ah,  my  boy  !  that's  the  girl  who 
would  make  a  wife  for  you."  This  had  been  my  experience. 
I  could  name  five  young  ladies  who  had  been  so  designated 
to  me.  I  confess  to  having  had  matrimonial  intentions. 
My  fortune  was  vast  and  had  come  upon  me  with  the 
suddenness  of  a  lottery  drawing.  There  were  great  sums  of 
interest  accumulating  with  monotonous  regularity,  and  I 
felt  oppressed  by  the  fact  that  they  might  gain  on  me  in 
spite  of  all  I  .could  do.  In  the  night  I  used  to  dream  that 
while  I  was  inactive  this  income  was  stealing  a  march  on 
me,  and  if  I  arose  an  hour  late  it  had  forged  ahead  just  so 
much  for  that  day.  I  had  to  stay  up  an  hour  later  that 
night  to  get  even.  I  said  my  fortune  was  vast.  Before  it 
came  to  me  people  carelessly  remarked  :  "  His  income  is 
so  much  per  annum."  Now,  with  keen  interest,  they  said  : 


Nil     BTOR1     OK    A    TRAIN    OK    CARS.  13 

••  His  income  is  so  much  per  hour."  Mark  the  narrowing 
down  of  the  time.  There  are  men  whose  incomes  are  so 
colossal  that  awe-struck  calculators  get  the  estimate  per 
minute.  Rather  than  bear  the  burden  which  the  latter 
fortune  represents  I  would  have  these  figurers  obliged  to 
swing  to  the  other  extreme  and  say  that  my  income  was  so 
much  per  century. 

It  looked  as  though  I  would  have  to  be  a  hard  spender 
for  the  rest  of  my  days  ;  up  early  and  down  late,  spreading 
my  interest  to  the  four  winds,  with  a  stray  ducat  for  any 
fifth  wind  that  might  come  my  way.  I  felt  unequal  to  the 
task,  so  I  decided  to  get  a  wife.  Now,  a  woman  can  be 
helpful  to  you  in  spending  money.  I  concluded  that  with 
a  wife  to  share  in  the  disposal  of  an  income,  my  burdens 
would  be  reduced  half — maybe  she  would  even  strive  for  me 
and  take  on  her  shoulders  three-quarters  of  the  spending. 

I  have  said  that  I  could  name  five  girls  who  had  been 
enthusiastically  pointed  out  to  me  as  material  for  the 
particular  wife  I  needed.  Aunt  Terwilliger  was  responsible 
for  this  sort  of  an  observation,  and  the  five  were  known  to 
single-blessedness  as : 

Misses  HOWES,  DAWES,  HALL,  SILL,  EAVES. 

I  was  making  up  a  list  of  those  who  were  to  be  invited 
to  accompany  me  on  my  special  railway  journey.  So  far 
I  had  one  name — that  of  my  always-to-be-included  Aunt 
Terwilliger.  I  requested  my  aunt  to  invite  each  of  the  five 
young  ladies  mentioned,  telling  her  that  my  purpose  in  so 
doing  was  to  test  her  recommendations  and  find,  if  possible, 
a  wife  among  the  lot.  So  far  I  was  fancy  free  and  each  of 
those  young  ladies  could  step  aboard  that  train  with  as  fair 
a  chance  of  capturing  me  as  any  of  the  rest.  I  could  promise 
each  of  them  a  delightful  trip,  and  to  one  (if  she  chose)  a 
husband.  When  I  first  saw  them  I  must  confess  that  I 
did  not  know  which  was  to  be  the  one,  for  I  was  equally 
impressed  with  each.  The  Misses  Howes  and  Hall  were 


14  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

blondes  ;  the  Misses  Dawes  and  Sill  were  brunettes,  while 
Miss  Eaves  held  the  balance  of  power  with  her  red  hair. 

Aunt  Terwilliger  was,  of  course,  the  chaperone  of  the 
party.  I  accidentally  found  that  she  had  a  strong  preference 
for  one  of  the  girls,  and  would  have  liked  me  to  get  that 
one ;  but  in  her  eyes  the  chaperone  must  exercise  an 
impartiality  something  akin  to  that  of  a  Justice  of  the 
Supreme  Court ;  so  each  girl  was  placed  on  an  equal  footing. 
After  a  slight  intercourse  with  the  young  ladies  I  thought 
I  could  perceive  in  the  dim,  far-away  horizon  of  my 
inclinations  a  faint  suggestion  of  a  preference  for  Miss  Sill. 

Of  the  male  guests  my  friend  Prof.  Braine  was  naturally 
of  the  first  importance.  I  invited  the  Professor,  first, 
because  he  was  my  friend,  and  next  because  in  his  specialty 
as  a  geographer  he  could  give  an  instructive  as  well  as 
interesting  turn  to  each  of  the  great  natural  wonders  which 
we  hoped  to  see.  As  an  indication  of  his  scope  in  this 
direction  I  cannot  refrain  from  appending  a  few  examples 
from  the  geography  which  he  is  now  compiling. 

What  is  geography  ? 

Geography  is  the  directory  of  the  earth. 
What  is  the  earth? 

The  earth  is  a  hard  spot  in  space. 
What  is  the  earth's  shape? 

Some  society  people,  like  the  ancients,  still  consider  the 

earth  flat — very  flat. 
How  is  it  divided  ? 

Into  zones,  congressional  districts  and  ten-acre  lots. 
Which  zone  is  the  most  populous? 

The  Intemperate. 
\yhere  do  you  live  i 

In  the  Owe-Zone. 
By  what  is  the  earth  surrounded? 

Barbed  wire  fences. 
By  whom  is  the  earth  inhabited? 

By  Republicans  and  Democrats. 
If  the  Mr.  Sippi  is  the  Father  of  Waters,  which  is  the  Mother? 

The  Amazon. 
Might  not  the  latter  be  called  the  Mother-in-law  of  Waters? 

Yes,  because  it  is  very  large  at  the  mouth. 


K  \  OK  A   I  K  A  I  N 


'5 


A  PEAK  *F  THE  VACATION  RANGE. 


What  are  the  four  seasons  of  the  year? 

Spring,  Summer,  two  weeks'  vacation  and  when  you  are 

home  sick. 
What  is  a  mountain  ? 

A  big  summer  hotel  with  a  hill  under  it. 
What  are  the  principal  mountains  of  the  Vacation  range? 

The  White  Mountains. 
Why  so  named? 

Because   the   guest   turns   white  when   his  hotel  bill  is 

presented. 
What  is  a  strait? 

A  strait  is  the  condition  in  which  the  summer  guest  finds 
himself  after  paying  the  hereinbefore  mentioned  bill. 
What  is  a  canal? 

A  canal   is   a   creek   grown    so  valuable   as  to  be  kept 
always  under  lock  and  quay. 


l6  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS. 

What  is  a  volcano  ? 

A  heated  hole  in  the  ground. 
What  minerals  are  found  in  the  United  States  ? 

Occasionally  a  copper,  and,  rarely,  a  nickel. 
What  is  the  composition  of  rocks  of  the  Advertising  Age? 

Careful  examination  of  the  rocks  of  the  Advertising  Age 
shows  the  following  compositions  : 


DOGGINE   FOR    HYDROPHOBIA. 

Testimonial. 

*'  Two  minutes  ago  I  was  surrounded  by  an  immense 
herd  of  rabid  dogs,  and  bitten  almost  to  pieces.  I 
commenced  taking  Doggine,  and  now  am  a  well  man  ; 
the  only  evidence  of  my  trouble  being  about  two  and  a 
half  miles  of  scars."  Rossiter  W.  Doubleday. 


ABSENT-MINDEDINE. 

Testimonial. 

11 1  am  a  track  walker  on  the  Cradle  Rock  and  Great 
Waul  Railroad,  and  so  absent  minded  that,  while 
in  the  discharge  of  my  duties,  I  have  been  run  over 
as  many  as  seven  times  a  week.  A  month  ago  I 
commenced  taking  Absent-Mindedine  and  to-day  I  am 
a  well  man.  I  am  surprised  now  if  I  am  run  over 
even  once  a  week.  R.  U.  Onit, 

Ass't  Gen'l  Track  Walker. 


That  sort  of  thing  speaks  for  itself  and  shows  what 
an  acquisition  Prof.  Braine  would  be  to  any  party.  His 
eloquence  was  so  great  that  he  could  almost  convince  you 
(if  he  chose)  that  brown  bears  leave  brown  tracks  behind 
them  while  black  bears  leave  black  tracks. 

The  balance  of  the  party  consisted  of  four  newspaper 
correspondents,  named  respectively  : 

Messrs.   KNIGHT,  DAY,  WEEKS,  YERES. 

They  were  a  bright,  attractive  lot,  and  perhaps  the  shrewd 
reader  may  be  able  to  guess  why  I  selected  newspaper  men. 


(HAITI    K    IV. 
THE  MAN  WHO  HAD  NEVER  RIDDEN  ON  THE  STEAM  CARS. 

OUR  start  from  Fort  Riley  was  a  great  success.  In  order 
to  convince  the  puBlie  that,  though  enormously  rich, 
I  was  not  in  the  least  snobbish  or  spoiled,  I  took  my  posi- 
tion on  the  Garden  Car;  and,  as  the  train  pulled  out,  the 
people  cheered  upon  seeing  me  in  my  shirt  sleeves,  quietly 
hoeing.  There  is  nothing  more  charming  in  wealthy  people 
than  simple  ways. 

Portions  of  the  train  certainly  had  an  odd  look.  For  in- 
stance, the  Bon  March^  with  its  signs  displayed  (such  as 
"Great  drive  in  tourist  articles  to-day"  and  "Those  sweet 
culluloid  time-tables  on  the  bargain  counter,  IQC.")  made 
people  stare.  I  heard  one  vulgar  woman  say,  as  the  train 
rolled  by,  that  it  was  better  than  a  circus  parade.  The 
Indian  names  on  the  cars  caused  great  conjecture  and 
comment,  one  man  remarking  that  he  thought  these  words, 
taken  as  a  whole,  represented  the  alphabet  suffering  from  a 
bad  attack  of  delirium  tremens.  The  press,  too,  gave  a 
great  deal  of  attention  to  my  train,  some  newspapers  refer- 
ring to  it  as,  "still  one  more  stride  in  the  onward  march 
of  Nineteenth-Centuryism,"  while  other  sheets,  taking  a 
frivolous  view,  called  my  train  "The  Burlesque  Limited," 
"The  Funny  Flyer,"  "The  Moneybags  Special,"  and  such 
like.  One  paper,  alluding  to  what  it  deemed  the  crazy 
eccentricity  of  the  whole  scheme,  wound  up  by  dubbing  my 
outfit:  "A  George  Francis  Train  of  cars— "cheap  wit 
indeed! 

The  Widow  McGovern  had  managed  everything  in  true 
railroad  style,  and  promised  to  be  a  great  conductor.  I 
noticed  that  she  was  constantly  conferring  with  our  en- 
gineer— a  good-looking  fellow — but  at  the  time  I  put  this 


l8  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

down  merely  to  a  desire  to  become  familiar  with  railway 
ways.  It  struck  me,  though,  that  she  indulged  in  too  many 
smirks  and  giggles,  considering  the  responsibility  which 
was  resting  on  her  shoulders;  but  then,  maybe  the  engineer 
had  a  funny  vein  which  cropped  out  even  in  the  dry  details 
of  train  management. 

In  a  short  time  she  came  to  me  and  said:  "  Mr.  Brown 
Stone,  there  is  one  thing  I  should  have  in  the  management 
of  this  train.  I  need  a  telephone  connected  with  the  loco- 
motive. The  bell  rope  of  a  train  has  a  very  limited 
vocabulary,  you  must  admit.  A  single  pull  means  one  thing, 
a  double  pull  another,  a  treble  pull  still  another.  But  there 
you  stop;  the  rope  cannot  say  another  word;  and  that's  a 
precious  limited  range  for  a  woman  conductor  who  has 
ever  so  many  things  to  say!  It  shows  how  stupid  men  are 
to  put  up  with  a  rope  all  these  years  and  never  invent 
something  better." 

I  must  confess  this  view  of  a  rope's  limit  as  a  conversation- 
alist was  a  new  one  to  me. 

"  Now,  with  a  telephone  running  to  the  cab  of  the  en- 
gine," continued  Mrs.  McGovern,  "the  whole  thing  is 
changed.  There  is  one  fear  I  constantly  have  on  my  mind. 
Very  well.  I  go  to  the  telephone  and  ring  up  the  locomo- 
tive. *  Harry ' — I  mean  Mr.  Kaboose,"  added  Mrs.  Mc- 
Govern, coloring,  "is  there  a  cow  ahead  on  the  track? 
And  back  comes  the  cheery  assurance,  'Annie' — I  should 
say  Mrs.  McGovern — "  (my  housekeeper  was  really  con- 
fused,) *  not  even  a  veal  in  sight.'  " 

"Say  no  more,"  I  remarked.  u  I* admit  that  any  well 
regulated  train  should  have  its  telephone,  and  you  shall 
have  one  on  this." 

At  the  first  stopping  place  we  had  our  first  episode. 
When  strolling  through  the  train,  just  after  we  were  again 
in  motion,  judge  my  surprise  at  seeing  a  stranger  seated  in 
one  of  the  cars.  He  had  a  nervous,  hunted  look,  and  a 


THE   STORY    OK    A    TRAIN  >  19 

icion  of  some  mysterious  crime  seemed  to  fasten  onto 
the  stranger.  What  if  this  man,  with  his  guilty  manner, 
were  a  murderer,  fleeing  from  the  scene  of  his  (rune? 
Hello/'  said  I,  gruffly,  stepping  up  to  him. 
How  d'y  do/1  replied  he ;  and  1  fancied  a  look  of  relief 
came  over  his  face.  "  I'm  powerful  glad  to  see  someone 
in  this  car  at  last,"  continued  he.  "  I  was  getting  mighty 
nervous.  Say,  can't  you  tell  the  engineer  to  go  kindy 
slow  until  I  get  the  hang  of  this  railroadin'  ?  My  crony, 
Morse  Hunker,  took  his  first  ride  a  month  ago  and  when  he 
come  back  he  was  taken  down  with  nervous  prostration." 

What  are  you  doing  on  this  train,  anyway  ?  "  I  question- 
ed sharply. 

'.oin'  to  Sleepy  Eye,  Minnesota,"  he  said  simply. 

••  Well,  you're  on  the  wrong  train  and  must  get  off." 

••  I  >on't  this  train  go  to  Sleepy  Eye  ?" 

"Yes,  but—" 

••  Well,  if  this  train  goes  to  that  place,  I  calc'late  I'm  in 
the  right  spot." 

-  This  is  a  private  train,  and  you  must  get  off." 

This  seemed  to  nettle  the  old  man  and  he  looked  ag- 
gressive. 

44  My  friend,"  said  he,  "have  you  ever  read  of  the  man 
who  hangs  around  for  sixty  odd  year  an'  then  takes  his 
first  ride  onto  a  railroad  train  ?  You've  heerd  of  sich  I 
calc'late.  Wai,  this  is  my  first  ride.  I've  never  even  been 
on  a  Trolley  Ho  afore  this.  Now,  I'm  aboard  of  a  train 
an'  I'm  goin'  to  stay  thar.  I'm  a  little  skary  at  fust,  but, 
B'Ginger!  before  I  go  three  mile  more,  I'm  jest  goin'  to  say 
that  this  here  railroadin'  's  'bout  the  hunkeyest  thing  I've 
run  up  against.  Now,  do  you  think,  knowin'  them  circum- 
stances, that  I'm  goin'  to  'low  any  man  to  rob  me  of  an 
experience  I've  been  a-hoardin*  up  for  sixty  year?  I'm 
goin'  to  stay  right  aboard  of  this  train,  an'  don't  you  forget 
it.  Say.  I  ain't  no  deadhead,  if  that's  what  you're  after. 


20  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

This  is  my  spree  an'  I'm  payin'  for  it.  If  you're  the  feller 
that  runs  this  train,  say  so,  an'  tell  me  the  fare  to  Sleepy  Eye." 

The  winning  frankness  of  the  old  man  had  paid  for  his 
ticket  already.  I  didn't  want  to  rob  him  of  that  first  ex- 
perience. However,  I  decided  to  have  some  fun  with  him, 
so  I  replied  :  "During  the  entire  trip  I  shall  have  only 
twelve  passengers  on  this  special  train  and  the  expense  of 
carrying  each  is  proportionately  heavy,  say  thirty-one  cents 
per  mile.  The  distance  from  here  to  Sleepy  Eye  is  2,100 
miles.  Your  fare,  therefore,  will  be  six  hundred  and  fifty- 
one  dollars." 

"  What!  "  shouted  the  old  man.  "  Six  hundred  and  fifty- 
one  dollars  !  " 

"  Oh,  that  includes  your  full  board  during  the  trip,"  I 
explained, — u  three  meals  a  day  and  a  whole  section  in  the 
sleeper." 

"  Why,  my  daughter  went  to  Sleepy  Eye  on  a  pass," 
cried  the  old  man.  "  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  bit  of 
paper  was  good  for  six  hundred  and  fifty-one  dollars  ? " 

u  Have  you  a  daughter  ? "  I  asked.  Every  woman  in- 
terested me  then,  and  I  thought  of  Miss  Sill. 

"  Yes,  I  have — the  likeliest  girl  you  ever  sot  eyes  on. 
But  about  that  fare,"  broke  in  the  old  man,  as  he  took  out  a 
checlc  book.  "  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  give  you  a 
check  for  two  hundred  and  fifty,  and  we'll  call  it  square." 

"  What  is  your  name  ? " 

"  Hiram  Slowpoke." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Slowpoke,  you're  on  an  odd  train  and  must 
expect  odd  treatment.  If  you  had  boarded  one  of  the 
regular  public  expresses,  you  would  have  had  to  pay  fare, 
whether  you  were  good  or  bad.  On  this  train  character  has 
a  great  deal  to  do  with  the  question.  You  are  journeying 
to  see  your  child — a  praiseworthy  act — therefore  it  may  be 
taken  for  granted  that  you  are  good,  and  on  that  account 
we  will  take  you  to  Sleepy  Eye  free  of  charge." 


THE   STORY   OF    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  21 

Mr.  Slowpoke  sank  back  in  his  seat  relieved. 

I  was  going  to  say  more  when  Aunt  Terwilliger  entered 

the  car  and  marched  up  to  me  with  an  annoyed  expression. 

•What   do  you   think    I've   learned?"   said   my  aunt. 

••Miss   Sill   was  engaged  before  she  came  on  this  train. 

That's  what  I  call  getting  a  trip  under  false  pretences." 

I  was  disappointed — but  just. 

You  wrong  Miss  Sill,  Aunt.  When  she  consented  to 
join  us  she  certainly  could  not  have  had  any  inkling  of  the 
possibility  intended  in  my  invitation;  therefore  she  was  free 
to  accept  a  husband  elsewhere.  I  shall  go  and  congratulate 
her." 

And  as  I  walked  to  another  part  of  the  train  I  became 
aware  that  my  chances  for  a  wife  had  narrowed  down  to 
four  women. 


PARTHENON    CAR. 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  TUNNEL  GAZETTE. 

ON   the  first  afternoon  of  our  trip  each  passenger  was 
handed  a  copy  of  a  tiny  newspaper  which  bore  on  its 
top  the  following  legend  : 

THE  TUNNEL  GAZETTE,  VOL.  i,  No.  i. 

And  this  paper  thereafter  made  its  appearance  on  each 
successive  secular  day  of  our  trip,  its  staff  of  contributors 
being  the  party  on  the  train,  while  its  printing  outfit  was 
in  the  rear  section  of  the  Bon  Marche1  car.  The  Tunnel 
Gazette  was  a  fearless  little  sheet  as  I  could  testify,  for  it 
had  promptly  "declined  with  regrets"  two  poems  which  I 
sent  it.  The  train  incidents  of  each  day  were  adequately 
set  forth  and  my  friends  derived  much  pleasure  from  its 
perusal.  I  remember  one  day,  when  we  had  a  very  bad 
hot  box,  the  Gazette  came  out  with  an  extra. 

Very  soon,  however,  I  began  to  be  annoyed  at  one 
feature  of  the  paper,  and  this  was  the  constant  succession 
of  adulatory  poems  addressed  to  Miss  Howes,  and  signed 


I  HI-     MOK\     01      A     TRAIN     Ol      TAK>.  23 

with  a  fictitious  name.  Could  this  admirer  be  one  of  the 
newspaper  men  on  the  train  ?  I  might  as  well  mention  at 
once  that,  after  having  reached  a  philosophical  stage  re- 
garding Miss  Sill's  engagement;  I  began  to  admire  Miss 
Howes*  hair,  and  from  admiring  a  woman's  hair  it  is  easy 
to  pass  on  to  other  parts,  until  you  find  suddenly  that  you 
approve  of  the  whole  person.  These  fulsome  verses  there- 
fore nettled  me  and  I  too,  in  opposition,  began  writing 
poems  on  Miss  Howes;  but  it  seemed  The  Tunnel  Gazette 
would  not  have  my  muse  on  any  terms,  for  the  lines  all 
came  back,  rejected.  We  shall  see  how  this  thing  ended. 
Meantime  I  would  say  that  we  had  bright  people  on  the 
train,  so  many  unique  articles  appeared.  One  I  remember 
particularly,  and  make  room  for  it  here. 

THE  LAND  OF  THE  GIANT  WATERMELON. 

'Rastus  Johnson  and  Sister  Malviny  stood  beneath  a  floral  water- 
melon and  were  married  by  Brother  Long,  after  which  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Johnson  started  for  California. 

The  ceremony  and  departure  had  a  peculiar  interest  for  Mokeville. 
Some  weeks  ago  Brother  'Rastus  had  read  a  paper  before  the  Mokeville 
Possum  League  in  which,  after  describing  the  wonders  of  the  giant 
trees  of  California,  he  startled  the  members  by  springing  on  them  the 
theory  that  soil  which  could  produce  such  trees,  ought  to  raise  water- 
melons as  big  as  hen  houses.  Some  of  those  California  trees  bad  roads 
cut  right  through  them  large  enough  to  admit  wagons.  Well,  what  if 
melons  could  be  made  to  grow  as  large  ?  Think  of  driving  through  the 
heart  of  a  watermelon  ! 

A  great  gastronomical  gasp  went  around  the  room  at  the  idea. 

So  it  came  about  that  'Rastus  was  sent  to  California  by  the  Possum 
League  to  tempt  the  soil  which  lay  about  the  roots  of  the  Grove  of 
Mariposa.  The  magic  dirt  was  to  be  given  a  trial  with  the  seeds  of  a 
Georgia  watermelon. 

Time  went  by,  without  any  word  from  'Rastus,  and  mutterings  began 
to  be  heard.  Brother  Lem  Nopey  even  went  so  far  as  to  darkly  hint 
that  he  didn't  believe  there  was  such  a  place  as  California,  let  alone  that 
yarn  about  those  big  trees.  But  one  day  a  wonder  came  about,  and  the 
scoffers  were  silent.  Into  Mokeville  there  rolled  a  platform  car,  on  the 
floor  of  which  was  a  watermelon,  the  like  of  which  had  never  before 


24  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

been  seen.  Every  inch  of  the  car  was  occupied  by  one  huge,  awe- 
inspiring  melon,  and  the  only  explanation  that  came  with  it  was  con- 
tained in  a  simple  card  tacked  upon  the  melon's  rind.  The  pasteboard 
read  : 


A  MARIPOSA  SEEDLING. 
With  Compliments  of 

'RASTUS  JOHNSON, 

Grove  of  Mariposa, 
Watermelon  Co.  California. 


Then  the  theory  started  in  the  club  was  correct — right  alongside  the 
giant  trees  could  be  raised  watermelons  correspondingly  as  great.  Each 
member  of  the  Mokeville  Possum  League  became  a  hero  in  that 
neighborhood  and  Lem  Nopey  was  presented  with  a  diamond-hilted  razor. 

The  Possum  League  immediately  became  too  great,  too  brainy 
for  humble  Mokeville.  Its  mission  lay  far  to  the  West.  The  sight 
of  the  big  melon  on  the  car  inflamed  its  blood.  A  hurried  consulta- 
tion, a  rush  to  the  little  station,  and  the  League  was  on  its  way  to  Cali- 
fornia. A  wild  furore  also  seized  the  balance  of  the  people  of  Moke- 
ville, and  even  the  pickaninnies  crowded  aboard  the  train,  to  steal  a 
ride  to  the  Land  of  the  Giant  Watermelon.  Uncle  Silas,  one  of  the 


THE    MARIPOSA    WATERMELON. 


THE   STORY    OK    A    TRAIN    OK    TARS.  25 

stowaways,  allowed  that  it  wouldn't  take  over  fo'  hours  and  fo'teen 
minutes  to  reach  Californy  ;  and  then — he  smacked  his  lips  at  the 
prospect! 

Days  and  days  of  travel  followed,  and  still  no  giant  melon  loomed 
before  their  eyes.  Was  there,  after  all,  such  a  place  as  California? 
Lem  sat  on  the  doubters'  seat  again  and  even  began  to  envy  the  radiant 
glory  of  the  colored  porter  on  the  Pullman  sleeper. 

But  one  day  the  long  expected  sight  greeted  the  eyes  of  the  awe- 
struck League.  A  grove  of  Stt/urias,  with  each  tree  hundreds  of  feet 
in  height  and  scores  of  feet  in  breadth!  But,  more  marvellous,  more 
thrilling  to  behold,  there  lay  among  these  trees  a  number  of  watermelons, 
any  one  of  which  was  as  big  as  a  barn — any  one  vast  enough  to  feed 
every  tribe  in  Darkeyest  Africa  ! 

.v -h  member  dropped  upon  his  knees  with  chattering  teeth  ;  and,  as 
the  League  gazed,  there  issued  from  among  the  melons  no  less  a  person 
than  'Rastus  Johnson.  But  what  a  change  !  Something  was  evidently 
wrong  with  the  great  colored  watermelon  scientist.  He  wildly  threw  his  arms 
about  and  talked  incoherently.  The  truth  was,  this  vast  melon  world 
had  proved  too  much  for  his  mind.  This  utterly  inexhaustible  and 
recklessly  lavish  display  of  watermelons  had  addled  his  brain.  'Rastus 
Johnson's  melons  had  come  in  such  colossal  proportions  that  the  sight 
gradually  made  him  crazy. 

As  'Rastus  approached,  his  wife  Malviny  joined  him,  and  she  quick- 
ly recognized  the  members  of  the  League.  The  sight  of  them  made  her 
furious,  for  she  laid  her  troubles  to  the  Possums. 

"Yah,  yo*  fool  niggahs,"  she  cried,  "  has  yo*  come  to  dis  yere 
unlucky  spot  too  ?  'Pears  lak  yo'  bettah  go  right  back  agin,  whar  yo' 
come  frum.  See  'Rastus,  clean  crazy,  an'  I'm  mo'an  half  luny  mahsef. 
Look  at  youuns,  too,  jabberin1  away  dere,  mos'  like  yo'  gettin'  cracked, 
too.  Kac  is,  no  coon  alive  kin  live  roun'  dese  yere  millions  an'  keep 
he'  senses.  Das  what  de  doctah  done  tole  'Rastus.  *  (/way ' 
sezzee,  *  g'way  back  to  Georgy  an'  be  satisfied  wid  de  small  breed 
millions  what  de  Lo'd  provide  for  youuns  down  dere.'  Den  he  dun  told 
me  'Rastus  never  get  he  mind  back  twel  he  git 'way  from  dese  Mah-posies 
what  git  we  cullud  pussons  so  excited.  I  done  speck  dem  big  'millions 
dar  am  hoodoed,  certain  shoo.  Dey  lay  dere  lookin'  as  if  all  a  coon  had 
to  do  was  to  eat  he  fill,  den  sleep  'till  he  ready  to  eat  he  fill  again.  Dey 
look  lak  as  if  anybody  could  jes  bo'  a  hole  in  em  an'  den  do  nufiin  but 
eat  million  fo'  de  res'  ob  dey  nat'ral  libes.  But  jes  dere  yo1  see  de 
vanity  ob  human  t'ings.  It's  de  little  fruit  das  de  sweetest,  an'  big 
fruit  only  runs  to  size.  Dese  yere  Mah-posies  make  yo'  tink  de  worl' 


26  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

commin'  to  an  en',  but  when  yo'  bite  into  em — pho  !  dar  ain't  no  tas'e. 
I'd  gibe  mo'  fo'  a  little  runt  ob  a  Georgy  'million  dan  fo'  all  dese  big  no- 
'counts  tuck  to-gedder." 

While  she  was  talking  Lem  Nopey  was  sampling  the  giant  water- 
melons. With  a  knife  he  made  a  wild  lunge  at  a  nearby  one,  and  get- 
ting a  piece,  he  impulsively  plunged  his  ivories  into  it.  Evidently  the 
palate  which  had  been  tickled  in  Georgia  was  not  satisfied  here.  A 
look  of  disgust  was  on  Lem's  face,  and,  turning  to  the  League,  he  said  : 
"  Ef  it  am  de  sense  ob  de  meetin',  I  now  moves  an'  seconds  de  followin'  : 

Resolved,  Dat -it  ain't  de  big  dawg  dat  catches  de  coon,  an', 

Resolved,  Dat  it's  bettah  to  let  well  miff  alone,  an', 

Resolved,  Dat  de  Georgy  million  is  well  enough,  an', 

Resolved,  Dat  eb'ry  coon  niggah  in  dis  yere  League  p'int  fer  home, 
an'  finally, 

Resolved,  Dat  de  coon  who  hereafter  reads  any  papah  befo'  de  Moke- 
ville  Possum  League  will  keep  to  hisself  any  mutton-headed  ideas  'bout 
Mah-posy  watermillions." 

Then  the  Land  of  the  Giant  Watermelon  became  a  silent  waste  of 
rind.  Abnormal  fruit  may  do  for  those  who  want  to  experiment,  but 
the  members  of  the  League  are  satisfied  with  the  crop  their  daddies  knew. 

One  day  Aunt  Terwilliger  came  to  me,  having  in  her 
hand  a  copy  of  The  Tunnel  Gazette,  and  holding  up  the 
paper  she  angrily  called  my  attention  to  one  of  the  person- 
als on  the  front  page,  which  read  as  follows  : 

"  the  lovely  Miss  Howes  will  be  on  the  rear  platform  of  the  Bon 
Marche  at  3  P.  M.  to-morrow,  she  will  learn  of  something  to  her  advantage. 
— Depew." 

"  That's  the  name  signed  to  all  those  poems,"  I  said,  un- 
suspectingly. 

"  Exactly/'  replied  my  aunt. 

"  I  wonder  if  the  girl  is  about  to  fall  heir  to  property 
and  is  to  be  first  told  of  it  on  the  rear  platform  of  our  train," 
I  queried. 

"  Fiddlesticks  and  cold  gravy ! "  cried  my  aunt  in  a 
rage.  "  Depew — whoever  he  may  be — is  going  to  propose 
to  her.  That's  what  !  " 

"  Eh,"  I  said,  quite  taken  aback. 


THE   STORY    OK    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  27 

44  What's  more,  we're  due  at  the  long  Sawyer  tunnel  by 
three  o'clock,  the  time  named  in  the  personal  ! 

This  tunnel,  by  the  way,  is  the  one  through  which  a 
certain  bride  and  groom  once  travelled  caressingly,  and 
as  they  emerged  from  the  long  spell  of  darkness,  the  brake- 
man  opened  the  car  door  to  call  out  the  name  of  the  stop- 
ping place,  just  ahead — "S-a-w-y-e-r  !  "  shouted  the  train- 
man. "  Don't  care  if  you  did  "  called  back  the  bridegroom 
with  a  defiant  flush.  "This  lady's  my  wife." 

"  Now,  I  tell  you  what,"  continued  Aunt  Terwilliger, 
11  we'll  accidentally  overhear  that  business,  and  if  it  be  a 
proposal — why,  I'll  pull  the  bell  cord  myself,  stop  the  train, 
and  tell  them  to  go  hunt  for  a  parson." 

"  I'm  shocked  at  you,  Aunt,"  I  interrupted.  "  You  don't 
mean  what  you  say.  Remember,  if  those  two  hearts  come 
together,  they  will  do  so  utterly  unconscious  of  interfering 
with  any  one  else.  What  do  they  know  of  my  wishes  or 
intentions  ?  They  are  my  guests,  invited  for  the  trip,  and 
they  shall  continue  with  us  to  the  end  of  the  journey,  even 
if  they  marry,  get  a  divorce  and  re-marry  during  that  time." 

The  next  day  Aunt  Terwilliger  fidgetted  a  great  deal, 
and,  as  the  afternoon  wore  on,  she  had  her  head  out  of  the 
window  almost  continuously,  gazing  at  the  rear  of  the 
train.  At  3:05  p.  M.,  just  after  we  had  emerged  from  the 
tunnel,  she  hastily  drew  in  her  head,  shut  the  car  window 
with  a  bang,  and  sat  for  two  hours  looking  very  glum. 
My  aunt  had  evidently  seen  a  sight.  That  night  the  editor 
of  The  Tunnel  Gazette  entered  our  car,  bearing  the  blush- 
ing Miss  Howes  on  his  arm,  and  the  engagement  was 
announced.  I  then  realized  why  my  poems  on  Miss  Howes 
had  been  so  summarily  rejected. 

My  only  hope  now  was  in  the  three  unengaged  maidens 
who  were  my  fellow  travellers. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ENTERTAINMENTS  IN  THE  THEATRE  CAR. 

TTFTER  the  moving  incidents,  and  sightseeing  of  the 
J  •*•  day,  it  was  always  delightful  at  night  to  gather  in 
the  Theatre  Car  and  take  part  in  some  entertainment  I 
gave  readings  from  the  poets  and  can  never  forget  the 
wild  enthusiasm  that  swept  through  the  car  when  I  recited 
with  dramatic  fire,  those  lines  from  the  Derby  Ram: 

"The  horns  upon  his  head,  sir,  they  reached  unto  the  moon. 
A  man  went  up  in  January  and  didn't  come  down  till  June; 
And  didn't  come  down  till  June,  sir,  and  didn't  come  down  till  June. 
And  when  they  killed  the  Ram,  sir,  there  was  a  wondrous  flood. 
Six  hundred  thousand  cattle  were  washed  away  in  his  blood, 
Were  washed  away  in  his  blood,  sir,  were  washed  away  in  his  blood." 

Prof.  Braine  gave  a  series  of  lectures  on  geographical 
subjects,  timing  his  themes  so  that  they  applied  to  the 
localities  in  which  we  happened  to  be  at  the  hour  when  the 
discourses  were  delivered.  For  instance,  when  we  reached 
the  Mississippi,  there  was  a  great  flood,  and  whole  houses 
were  drifting  down  the  river.  That  night  Prof.  Braine 
stepped  upon  the  stage  of  the  car  and  delivered  an  address, 
part  of  which  I  can  recall  in  these  words  : 

THE  MISSISSIPPI. 

The  term  "floating  population"  was  first  used  along  the  Mississippi 
River  during  one  of  its  spring  freshets,  and  applies  to  the  people  living 
upon  its  banks.  When  a  man  has  a  house  for  sale  in  New  Orleans  or  Cairo, 
he  does  not  bore  the  would-be  purchaser  with  such  minor  details  as  the 
number  of  rooms,  the  style  of  architecture,  or  the  character  of  the 
plumbing.  He  simply  advertises  : 

"For  Sale. — A  house  capable  of  floating  seven  miles  an  hour,"  or 
"For  Rent. — A  compartment  house,  each  story  of  which  will  float  by 
itself,  if  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  building." 

In  New  York  the  new  directory  is  made  up  after  the  annual  May  mov- 
ing; but  along  the  Mississippi  this  book  is  not  compiled  until  the  town  is 


I  IN     STORY    OK    A    TRAIN    0  29 

through  with  its  spring  regatta,  and  each  house  is  finally  moored  for  the 
twelve  months  to  follow.  Then  the  tenant  goes  on  his  roof  at  noon, 
throws  his  lead,  makes  sure  the  house  is  not  leaving  a  wake  behind  it, 
and  finally  takes  an  observation  with  his  quadrant.  After  that  you 
observe  his  name  and  address  in  the  directory  something  like  this  :  "  Kl- 
nathan  Mud,  lat.  39°  30",  long  25°  40". 

In  New  Orleans  the  statute  book  bears  many  wise  ordinances  for  the 
protection  of  its  floating  population.  \\  c  find,  for  instance,  that  to 
avoid  possible  collisions,  the  tenant  must  display  each  night  a  green  light 
from  the  starboard,  and  a  red  light  from  the  port  coping  of  his  house. 
When  the  town  is  drifting  down  past  the  levees,  three-story-and -mansard 
roofed  houses  have  the  right  of  way. 

Of  course,  the  speed  element  has  been  introduced,  and  instead  of  the 
fast  horse,  the  M  ississippian  prides  himself  on  the  fast  house.  That 
building  which,  in  a  freshet,  can  get  away  from  its  foundation  first,  and 
make  the  quickest  run  to  a  given  point  down  stream,  is  sure  to  be  the 
favorite  in  the  real  estate  market. 

This  is  enough  to  give  an  idea  of  the  fascinating  quality 
of  these  entertainments. 

Finding  that  I  controlled  a  stage,  it  naturally  followed 
that  I  should  write  an  American  play,  and  I  did.  It  was  a 
great  night  when  the  "  Burglars'  Boycott"  was  produced. 


The  Tunnel  Gazette  had  its  dramatic  critic  on  hand,  and 
the  locomotive  engineer  was  ordered  not  to  mar  the  action 
of  the  play  by  blowing  the  whistle  during  the  performance. 
On  the  first  performance  of  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer/' 
Goldsmith,  too  nervous  to  go  to  the  theatre,  walked  the 
streets  during  the  hours  his  piece  was  being  acted.  The 
same  feeling  caused  me  to  be  crouching  on  the  back  plat- 
form of  the  rear  car  when  the  curtain  was  raised  on  my  play. 
While  I  was  there  the  train  for  some  reason  slowed  up,  and  I 


30  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

saw  two  men  get  on  at  the  forward  part.  But  at  that  moment, 
hearing  a  burst  of  applause  from  the  Theatre  Car,  I  at 
once  forgot  all  about  them,  and  rushed  to  the  scene  of  my 
performance. 

The  plot  of  the  " Burglars'  Boycott"  was  simple.  An 
actress,  wishing  to  advertise  herself,  sent  notice  to  a  den  of 
thieves  that  she  had  some  valuable  diamonds,  and  suggest- 
ed their  stealing  same.  If  the  burglars  had  accepted  this 
invitation,  as  one  might  suppose  they  would,  I  could  not  have 
made  over  a  five-minute  play.  The  plot  would  have  ended 
then  and  there.  But,  fortunately,  my  burglars  were  not  of 
that  sort.  No.  It  appears  that  in  a  previous  play  the 
actress  had  said  some  very  hard  things  about  burglars  and 
now  they  saw  their  chance  to  get  even.  They  boycotted 
her — in  other  words,  they  solemnly  agreed  not  to  steal  one 
of  her  brilliants.  This  course  on  their  part  kept  the  plot 
moving,  for  when  she  heard  of  their  action  she  was  greatly 
distressed,  and  at  once  appealed  to  a  handsome  police 
officer  who  loved  her.  This  man  went  to  the  burglars,  on 
her  behalf,  and  told  them  that  a  boycott  was  unlawful,  and 
that  they  must  steal  her  diamonds  or  he  would  have  them 
jailed  for  some  previous  offence  of  which  he  had  a  record. 

At  this  point  in  the  play,  two  strange  men  stalked  upon 
the  stage,  and  I  at  once  knew  that,  so  far  as  my  lines  were 
concerned,  they  had  no  business  there.  My  tourist  audience, 
however,  thinking  these  men  were  a  part  of  the  performance, 
gave  them  a  hearty  round  of  applause.  Paying  no  attention 
to  this  friendly  greeting,  the  men  advanced  to  the  footlights, 
and,  pointing  two  savage  looking  revolvers  at  the  audience, 
sternly  sang  out  : 

"  Throw  up  your  hands  !  " 

Held  up?  Yes,  that  was  the  case  exactly.  We  were 
experiencing  what  has  befallen  so  many  western  trains. 

Now  it  may  sound  strange,  but  I  was  delighted,  for  this 
was  just  what  I  had  been  desiring.  You  will  bear  in  mind 


THE   STORY   OF    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  31 

that  money  was  what  these  fellows  wanted.  Very  well,  I 
would  give  them  money.  The  amount  of  cash  that  would 
satisfy  them  would  be  an  insignificant  sum,  indeed,  to  me. 
In  exchange  we  would  have  the  novel  experience  of  being 
held  up  !  The  press  of  the  country  would  tell  all  about  it,  and 
what  is  more  engrossing  than  a  well  written  account  of  a 
train  robbery  ?  Truly  this  episode  promised  to  be  one  of 
the  most  notable  entertainments  given  in  the  Theatre  Car. 
I  could  have  turned  a  hand-spring  for  very  joy,  only  I  was 
afraid  the  robbers  would  mistake  the  meaning  of  my  per- 
formance and  shoot  me  in  the  act. 

All  my  tourists  were  now  holding  up  their  hands,  and  I 
cried  out  with  ill-concealed  joy  :  "  How  much  money  will 
satisfy  you  ? " 

"  Money/'  replied  one  of  the  robbers  scornfully,  "  who 
has  said  anything  about  money  ?  I  )o  you  take  us  for  the  reg- 
ulation stage  robbers  ? " 

\\'e  could  only  look  at  each  other  in  blank  amazement 
and  acknowledge  that  it  did  look  a  trifle  that  way. 

"You  keep  your  money,'\  broke  in  the  second  stranger, 
"  until  we  call  for  it.  What  we  are  holding  up  this  here 
train  for  is — quinine." 

"Quinine,"  ejaculated  twelve  dumbfounded  mortals. 

"  Maybe  if  you  had  to  live  'round  these  here  quaking 
swamps  with  a  family  of  twelve  all  at  it — " 
\t  what  ?"  I  feebly  inquired. 

"Fever  'n  ager,  squire.  I  say,  maybe  if  you  had  been 
through  what  we  have,  livin'  here  hundreds  of  miles  from 
a  settlement,  with  yourselves,  your  heirs  and  assigns,  chat- 
tering like  monkeys,  you'd  learn  to  think  a  heap  more  of 
your  pill-box  than  your  pocket  book.  We  hanker  for 
quinine  wusser'n  you  do  for  strong  drink.  Come  now, 
hand  up  your  medicine  chest  and  we'll  light  out  for  home, 
and  when  we  git  there  you  bet  twenty-four  people  will  go 
to  bed  chuck  full  of  drugs  and  contentment." 


32  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

How  could  such  an  appeal  be  answered  ?  Why,  those 
men  were  simply  loaded  down  with  medicines.  Some  of 
my  people  bestowed  homeopathic  drugs,  some  allopathic. 
Patent  medicines  were  showered  on  them  and  even  hair 
oil  and  capcine  plasters  went  their  way.  Some  drugs  which 
had  nearly  laid  me  away  were  handed  over  with  a  sense  of 
cheerful  giving  and  generosity.  The  last  presentation  was 
a  package  of  Rough  on  Rats. 

And  after  they  had  left  us,  we  drew  mental  pictures  of 
that  long-suffering  family,  at  last  happy,  as  they  revelled 
day  after  day  in  the  job  lot  of  medicines  brought  home  by 
the  two  pill  desperadoes.  Joy  over  a  chance  to  swallow 
medicine  may  sound  odd,  but  imagine  yourself  out  on  a 
limitless  prairie,  without  a  neighbor  near.  Then  let  sickness 
come  while  the  pill-box  is  empty.  Ah  !  You'd  dance  for 
joy  when,  after  long  suffering  and  waiting,  the  curative 
mixture  arrived.  You  only  realize  an  article's  value  as  it 
becomes  hard  to  possess. 

Aunt  Terwilliger  would  have  enjoyed  the  experience  im- 
mensely but  for  the  fact  that  at  the  first  appearance  of  the 
strangers,  when  it  was  still  thought  that  they  were  desperate 
highwaymen,  she  saw  Mr.  Knight  place  a  protecting  arm 
around  the  waist  of  Miss  Dawes.  This  impromptu  action 
was  too  significant  to  be  misconstrued.  When  I  met  my 
aunt  after  the  occurrence,  she  took  up  the  theme  at  once, 
remarking  that  such  haste  in  people  who  did  not  even  know 
each  other  a  fortnight  ago,  was  positively  indecent. 

'•Dear  aunt/'  I  replied,  UI  thought  you  were  better  up 
in  human  nature.  You  surely  must  know  that  travelling 
friendships  are  *  fast  and  furious.'  People  touring  together 
on  pleasure  bent,  and  all  with  a  mutual  object  in  view,  are 
drawn  together  almost  instantly — quite  differently  from 
what  they  do  when  they  are  staid  stay-at-homes." 

Thus  I  tried  to  smother  still  one  more  disappointment 
with  a  bit  of  philosophy.  As  for  my  aunt — well,  I  verily 
believe  she  was  losing  flesh  over  my  run  of  ill  luck. 


tfttftttt 


MOSQUE    CAR. 


CIIAITKR  VII. 

THE  HAUNTED  TRAIN. 

TTMONG  the  servants  on  our  train  were  two  Moham- 
y  ^  medans  and  at  sunset  I  frequently  caught  them  gaz- 
ing up  at  the  minaret  which  rose  above  the  roof  of 
the  Theatre  Car.  They  did  this  so  regularly  that  at  last 
my  curiosity  was  aroused  and  I  enquired  what  was  up  there 
that  so  interested  them.  Emboldened  by  my  interest, 
they  confessed  that  the  tower  reminded  them  of  the  minar- 
ets in  their  own  land,  and  that  at  sunset  they  glanced  at 
the  platform  above  almost  with  the  hope  that  some  muez- 
zin would  appear  there  to  summon  the  faithful  to  prayer. 
As  a  result  of  this  conversation  I  gave  one  of  these  de- 
vout pagans  the  privilege  to  go  up  into  the  minaret  at  sunset 
and  call  his  fellow  Mohammedan  to  worship,  and  many  a 
night  thereafter  I  heard,  overhead,  the  ( )riental  call,  and 


34  THE  STORY  OF  A  TRAIN  OF  CARS. 

saw  the  true  believer  below  unroll  his  prayer  rug  and 
devoutly  kneel  upon  it. 

But  another  soon  claimed  exclusive  possession  of  our 
minaret. 

One  very  dark  night  I  was  seated  in  my  car  in  company 
with  two  of  the  newspaper  men,  all  the  rest  of  the  party 
having  retired.  The  air  was  rather  chilly,  so  I  had  a  good 
log  burning  in  my  open  fireplace  and  the  flicker  of  the 
flames  was  the  only  light  in  the  car.  Conversation  had 
ceased  and  we  were  all  seated  around  indulging  in  what 
one  of  the  party  styled  "  a  stag  think."  Even  the  train  was 
gliding  along  in  a  subdued  way,  it  being  at  that  time  en- 
gaged in  passing  through  a  swamp  as  gruesome  as  the 
Florida  everglades. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  train  servant  girls  rushed  into  my 
presence,  her  face  bearing  an  expression  of  great  fright. 
Excitedly  going  to  one  of  the  car  windows,  she  pointed  out 
and  cried  in  a  scared  voice  :  "  the  banshee  !  "  (She  was  a 
member  of  the  race  which  has  a  holiday  on  the  iyth  of 
March.) 

We,  of  course,  hurried  to  the  window  where  she  stood 
and  looked  out  into  the  intense  darkness.  We  saw  a  ghost, 
if  there  be  such  a  thing.  The  top  of  the  minaret  was 
faintly  illumined  by  a  pale,  spooky  sort  of  light,  just  strong 
enough  to  give  outline  to  a  spectral  form;  and,  as  we  gazed, 
the  thing  moved  to  and  fro  in  the  narrow  compartment. 
Three  strong  men  pinched  one  another  and  then  took  a 
second  look.  Yes,  there  it  was,  without  doubt ;  a  creepy, 
goosefleshy  sight. 

Suddenly  one  of  my  newspaper  friends  said  :  "  I'll  get 
an  interview  out  of  it,  be  it  spook  or  human  being."  And 
he  actually  started  as  if  to  make  good  his  remark. 

"Stop,"  I  said  instantly  and  imperatively,  "consider 
what  we  have  before  us.  Search  every  page  of  history, 
every  line  of  fiction,  and  you  will  not  discover  so  much  as 


THE   STORY    OP    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  35 

the  hint  of  a  railroad  ghost.  You  will  find  ghosts  in  old 
chateaus,  old  inns,  old  towers,  lonely  moors  and  numerous 
other  places,  but  never  on  the  cars  of  the  moving  train. 
We  have  here  something  absolutely  unique  and  we  must 
not  drive  it  away  by  that  spirit  of  modern  investigation 
which  has  blasted  so  many  relics  of  the  past.  To-morrow 
morning  the  entrance  to  that  minaret  shall  be  locked,  and  it 
is  my  wish  that  no  one  disturb  and  thereby  drive  away  this 
ghost  by  trespassing  on  its  territory.  Leave  the  shape 
alone.  Let  it  be  known  that  ours  is  a  haunted  train,  and 
the  whole  country  will  keep  its  eyes  upon  us.  This,  I  take 
it,  is  the  ghost  of  some  globe  trotter  who  is  now  indulging 
in  the  spirit  what  he  once  practiced  in  the  flesh — a  continual 
round  of  travel.  I'd  open  the  window  and  fling  him  a  time- 
table if  I  knew  he'd  take  kindly  to  such  an  act." 

We  looked  out  again  and  the  ghost  must  have  heard  my 
last  remark  for  suddenly  the  light  died  out  and  the  minaret 
and  its  occupant  disappeared  entirely  in  the  darkness. 

A   haunted  train!"     I   could   fancy   what  a  sensation 
would  be  caused  by  such  a  headline  in  the  papers. 

When,  the  next  morning,  the  rest  of  the  passengers  heard 
of  our  experiences  there  was  a  general  guffaw  of  incredulity, 
and,  among  other  things,  we  were  asked  when  we  had  last 
seen  the  sea  serpent  and  was  our  ghost  traveling  on  a  pass  ? 

\\'e  retorted  that  in  spite  of  all  the  chaffing  we  were 
willing  to  wager  a  silver  cow-catcher  that  the  next  time 
darkness  settled  down  on  our  train  every  one  of  the  scof- 
fers would  be  peering  out  of  the  car  windows  trying  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  phantom  globe  trotter.  We  had  it 
thus  back  and  forth  all  day,  we  finally  becoming  known  as 
the  spookites,  while  the  scoffers  became  welded  together 
into  a  mass  known  as  the  anti-spookites. 

As  evening  approached  I  noticed  that  the  women  members 
of  the  antis  were  not  so  hilarious,  and  I  really  believe  some 
of  them  became  somewhat  nervous.  Expectation  ran  high. 


36  THE  STORY  OF  A  TRAIN  OF  CARS. 

Would  the  globe  trotter  again  favor  us,  or  not  ?  I  sincerely 
hoped  so,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  to  protect  my  delicate 
reputation.  I  not  only  wanted  him  to  appear,  but  I  wished 
him  to  enact  before  all  eyes  the  most  gruesome  ghost  walk 
on  record. 

The  minaret  rose  so  high  above  the  train  that  with 
a  little  effort  its  top  could  be  seen  from  many  of  the  car 
windows,  and  by  the  time  it  was  quite  dark  I  think  every 
passenger  on  the  train  was  making  that  little  effort.  Never 
was  ghost  honored  with  a  larger  and  more  expectant  audi- 
ence. 

An  hour — two  hours,  that  little  company  waited  and 
watched,  and  all  that  time  the  top  of  the  minaret  remained 
in  darkness.  The  guying  of  the  day  was  resumed  with  a 
will. 

"  Anti-spookites,"  I  suddenly  said  in  triumph,  "  look  at 
the  top  of  the  minaret,  if  you  please." 

The  pale  light  of  the  night  before  was  again  dimly  illu- 
mining the  tower  and  there  was  the  ghost  in  white  silhouette. 
Back  and  forth  it  paced,  shaking  its  grisly  locks.  A  fiery 
cinder  from  the  locomotive  came  its  way,  passed  through 
the  center  of  its  body  and  went  hurtling  on  toward  the  rear 
of  the  train  ;  at  which  some  of  the  ladies  drew  back  with  a 
gasp  and  refused  to  gaze  aloft  any  longer.  I  felt  as  tickled 
as  a  boy  with  a  new  top,  and  considered  the  cinder  as 
beating  any  bit  of  stage  realism  I  had  ever  seen,  while  fire- 
works were  not  to  be  mentioned  alongside  of  a  show  like 
that.  Aunt  Tervvilliger  asked  me  with  a  hushed  voice  if  I 
thought  the  ghost  could  allow  a  trolley  wire  to  pass  through 
it,  and,  in  a  wild  glee  I  replied  with  a  paraphrase  of  Cap'n 
Cuttle,  "If  any  ghost  kin,  he  kin." 

I  wanted  a  long  exhibition  for  the  benefit  of  the  anti- 
spookites;  that  would  be  my  revenge  for  their  day's  sarcasm. 
I  feared,  however,  that  one  thing  might  occur  to  prevent 
this,  and  as  luck  would  have  it,  that  very  thing  happened 


THE   STORY   OF    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  37 

then  and  there.  The  train  rushed  by  a  farm  house  and  as 
we  came  abreast  of  the  barn,  1  heard  distinctly  the  loud 
crowing  of  a  rooster.  I  instantly  glanced  up  at  the  spectre, 
and  saw  it  stop  and  give  a  startled  glance  in  the  direction 
of  the  barn.  Then,  as  I  had  dreaded,  it  faded  away,  and 
the  minaret  disappeared  into  the  night.  The  cock  crow  had 
warned  the  ghost  of  coming  dawn  and  it  had  departed  d  la 
Hamlet's  father. 

But,  after  all,  the  anti-spookites  won  the  day,  or  rather, 
in  this  case,  the  night,  for  next  morning  the  door  at  the  foot 
of  the  minaret  was  found  open,  and  on  the  floor  the 
following  pencilled  letter  lay  : 

'this  Train,  ('tidting: 

Having  enjoyed  two  days  free  transportation  on  your  unique  train,  I 
leave  you  with  the  kindest  of  feelings.  Yesterday,  while  walking  the 
tracks,  your  train  came  along  and  I  saw  this  minaret.  In  a  moment,  temp- 
tation overcame  me,  and  I  stole ;  yes,  it  must  be  confessed,  I  stole — a 
ride.  I  said  to  myself  no  officious  conductor  will  ever  shin  up  that 
minaret  to  exact  a  paltiy  fare,  so  I  climbed  into  it  and  took  possession. 

I  soon  became  foolishly  fond  of  my  perch  and  grew  haggard  with  the 
idea  that  someone  on  the  train  might  stray  up  into  the  lookout,  discover 
me,  and  as  a  result,  have  me  ejected.  I  pondered  as  to  how  I  could  make 
that  tower  so  unpopular  that  both  passengers  and  train  crew  would 
vhun  it  as  a  thing  accurst,  and  thereby  leave  me  in  peaceful  possession. 

I  hit  upon  the  idea  of  making  it  a  haunted  tower.  All  I  had  to  do 
was  to  unpack  my  valise  and  give  a  mid-air  performance  of  my  *  Mar- 
velous Mediaeval  Illusion,  or  the  Grisly  Ghost  of  Graf  ton  Grange/ 
which  has  created  a  sensation  in  every  one-night  stand  west  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, and  must  have  been  successful  here,  judging  from  the  awe-struck 
faces  which  I  have  seen  peering  up  from  the  car  windows. 

Now  I  leave  the  cars,  as  I  have  reached  Accident,  where  I  hope  to  give 
a  performance  to-night;  and  if  the  train  would  but  stop  over,  every  one 
aboard  should  have  a  pass  in  return  for  favors  unknowingly  granted  to  me. 
PROF.  CANT  WELL  D.  SKA 

America's  Greatest  Magician." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

WANDERING    WILLIE, 

7TFTER  leaving  the  town  of  Looking  Glass,  (Neb.)  I 
<J  A  found  ensconsed  in  one  of  the  cars  another  unknown 
traveler — this  time  a  demure  little  lad.  I  at  once  began  to 
ply  him  with  questions  and  he  only  answered  by  pointing 
to  the  back  of  his  neck.  I  asked  him  his  name,  whom  were 
his  parents,  where  was  his  home,  how  he  had  come  to  get 
on  the  train,  was  he  lost,  etc.,  and  after  each  question  he 
simply  pointed  afresh  to  the  back  of  his  neck.  Finally  it 
occurred  to  me  that  I  would  examine  the  back  of  the  boy's 
neck.  As  I  glanced  along  the  lapel  of  his  coat  I  saw  stick- 
ing out  a  large,  strong  tag,  on  which  I  read  the  following  : 


This  is  Willie  Rossiter  Goodlove,  whose  parents  are 
now  in  Dunedin,  New  Zealand,  anxiously  awaiting  his 
return  to  them.  Please  help  him  on  his  journey.  A 
few  miles  thankfully  received.  Do  not  overload  his 
stomach  with  knick-knacks,  and  keep  his  feet  dry.  If 
this  tag  looks  as  if  about  to  come  off,  please  fix  it. 


This,  then,  was  one  of  those  child  travelers  of  whom  we 
read  occasionally,  and  whose  passage  ticket  for  cars,  boat 
and  stage  is  a  tag,  with  sometimes  more  and  sometimes  less 
than  the  above  written  on  it.  Wandering  Willie,  as  we  soon 
learned  to  call  him,  had  been  started  from  Nine  Times, 
South  Carolina,  by  an  aunt  who  had  just  presented  her 
husband  with  triplets,  and  therefore  thought  it  high  time 
for  Willie  to  cut  cross  lots  to  his  own  home  in  New  Zealand. 
She  concluded  that  if  the  world  did  not  owe  Willie  a  living 
it  certainly  owed  him  transportation;  and  the  public,  as  it 
invariably  does  in  such  a  case,  accepted  that  view  and  was 
keeping  Willie  moving.  Now  it  was  my  turn  to  annihilate  a 


THE   STORY   OF    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  39 

little  space  for  the  youngster  and  I  accepted  the  call.  By 
this  time  all  my  friends  were  grouped  around  the  boy  and 
they  were  enthusiastic  over  the  novelty  of  the  occurrence. 
The  women  concluded  that  he  must  resemble  his  mother, 
while  the  men  decided  that  he  was  sure  to  be  the  image  of 
"  the  old  gent." 

Willie  never  cried  for  home  and  mother,  and  I  found  that 
he  had  so  much  of  the  stars  and  stripes  in  his  blood  that  he 
did  not  care  to  go  to  foreign  parts;  although  he  was  quite 
content  to  travel  all  over  this  country,  and  had  already 
acquired  that  self  complacent  manner  which  comes  to 
children  who  have  been  for  a  long  time  the  centre  of 
attention. 

Willie  was  a  great  acquisition — for  a  time ;  then  he  became 
a  terrible  cankering  care  on  our  hands.  When  the  latter 
moment  arrived,  Willie  turned  into  a  nightmare — a  regular 
livery  stable  nightmare.  People  who  at  first  wanted  to  be 
with  him,  now  yearned  to  be  away  from  him.  The 
cause  of  the  sudden  change  in  feeling  was  this — when  we 
were  in  the  heart  of  a  limitless,  barren  prairie,  Willie  broke 
out  with  a  violent  scarlet  fever. 

Here  was  a  situation.  A  number  of  people  brought  to- 
gether in  the  close  contact  of  train  life.  Right  in  the  midst 
of  the  lot,  a  child  with  an  infectious  fever,  and  that  child's 
parents  in  New  Zealand.  He  must  remain  on  the  train,  for 
outside  was  nothing  but  sand  dunes — no  town,  no  house, 
not  even  a  dog  kennel  within  hundreds  of  miles.  The 
situation  caused  so  much  alarm  that  I  finally  had  the 
following  notice  posted  through  the  train  : 

ATTEND  THE   MASS   MEETING 
IN  THE  THEATRE  CAR  AT  7:30  p.  M.,  TO  DISCUSS 

WHAT  MEANS   SHOULD   BE  TAKEN   REGARDING 

THE  SUDDEN  APPEARANCE 

OF 

AN  INFECTIOUS  DISEASE  ! ! ! 


4o 


THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 


We  had  this  mass  meeting,  and  with  long  faces  discussed 
the  problem.  The  Anglo  Saxons  can  get  a  great  deal  of 
comfort  out  of  a  mass  meeting,  and  usually  evolve  some- 
thing practical  from  it.  It  happened  so  in  this  case.  I 
think  that  during  the  course  of  the  debate  the  word 
"quarantine"  was  mentioned  eighteen  hundred  and  nine 
times.  The  sense  of  the  meeting  was  for  quarantine. 
Finally  Mr.  Hiram  Slowpoke  arose  and  proposed  that  the 
last  car  on  the  train  be  set  aside  as  a  hospital,  and  Willie 
be  put  in  it ;  that  it  then  be  detached  and  afterwards  con- 
nected with  the  train  by  a  long,  strong  tow  line,  the  space 
between  the  end  of  our  train  and  the  beginning  of  Willie's 
car  to  represent  quarantine.  Mr.  Slowpoke  had  seen  canal 
boats  towed  at  the  end  of  long  ropes,  and  he  didn't  see 
why  cars  couldn't  be  towed,  too.  He  was  not,  he  said  "  an 
expert  in  railroad  operations,  but  there  was  his  suggestion, 
and  they  could  use  it  or  not." 


THE    QUARANTINE    CAR. 


THE   STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OK   CARS.  41 

It  was  a  truly  brilliant  scheme  and  accepted  by 
acclamation.  Then  and  there  the  first  quarantine  car  for 
infectious  diseases  went  into  commission;  and  in  grim 
isolation  followed  its  train  at  the  end  of  a  long  tow 
line,  its  gloomy  Egyptian  architecture  proving  in  keeping 
with  its  solemn  use.  The  scheme  worked  to  perfection, 
except  when  we  had  to  back  our  train,  at  which  time,  to 
the  consternation  of  all,  we  would  run  right  back  into  the 
infected  district. 

The  Cowcatcher  Club  raised  a  large  subscription  for 
Wandering  Willie.  I  may  mention  that  this  organization, 
when  formed  at  the  beginning  of  our  journey,  was  merely 
for  social  purposes  and  good  fellowship,  but  it  had  not  been 
in  existence  long  before  it  formulated  a  "  mission  "  as  so 
many  clubs  do. 

Its  first  mission  was  to  suppress  our  indiscriminate  buying 
of  mementos  and  souvenirs  along  the  line  of  the  tour  ;  and 
anyone  will  endorse  such  a  censorship,  who  has  returned 
from  a  long  journey,  loaded  down  with  things  which,  when 
first  bought  in  their  particular  localities,  seemed  priceless 
possessions,  but  when  deposited  in  the  home,  quickly  de- 
generated into  useless  gimcracks. 

The  next  mission  of  the  Cowcatcher  Club  was  decidedly 
more  ambitious  and  showed  a  broadening  of  scope. 

It  was  proposed  to  do  no  less  a  thing  than  to  start  a  fund 
for  the  purchase  of  a  parlor  car,  same  to  be  the  exclusive, 
property  of  the  President  of  the  United  States  of  America. 

During  the  discussion  attending  this  undertaking  the 
Club  passed  the  following  resolutions  appertaining  to  the 
matter,  viz. : — 

"  //  being  a  self  evident  fact  that  our  President  will  never  again  ride  in 
an  ordinary  railroad  coach  ;  and, 

//  therefore  following  that  he  must  continue,  as  of  late,  to  use  a  special 
car  during  his  journeys  ;  and, 

//   being,  in  our  judgment,  not  befitting  the  dignity  of  this  country 


42  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

that  its  Chief  Magistrate  be  compelled  to  ride  in  a  car  which  has  been 
courteously  loaned  him  by  some  high  railroad  official  ;  therefore, 

Be  it  resolved  that  the  Cowcatcher  Club  start  a  movement  looking  to 
the  enfranchisement  of  the  President  from  his  mortifying  role  of  traveling 
by  the  grace  of  The  General  Traffic  Manager ;  and  this  can  only  be  done 
by  giving  him,  for  his  sole  use,  during  his  term,  a  railway  coach  to  be 
known  as  The  Chief  Magistrate's  Car. 

Entered  in  the  minutes." 

Some  thought  it  the  Government's  duty  to  supply  such 
a  car,  whereupon  others  replied  that  it  never  could  come  in 
that  way,  for  there  were  enough  mossbunkers  in  Congress 
to  block  such  a  proposition,  by  calling  it  a  "  monarchical 
scheme,"  or  "a  raid  on  the  Treasury." 

The  subscription  paper  is  still  going  around. 


President's  Private  Car 


A    CAPITOL    IDEA. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SCIENTIFIC   TRAIN   HANDLING. 

THE  management  of  our  train  was  not  at  all  satisfactory, 
and  as  time  passed,  it  seemed  to  be  growing  worse. 
Without  any  apparent  good  reason,  we  were  continually 
running  behind  time.  At  last  this  sort  of  thing  became  so 
bad  that  I  determined  to  see  for  myself  what  was  wrong. 
Aunt  Terwilliger,  unknown  to  me  at  that  time,  also  re- 
solved to  start  a  little  search  of  her  own,  chiefly  I  think 
because  she  was  in  need  of  something  to  divert  her  mind, 
and  she  had  now  reached  such  a  chronic  state  that  she  laid 
any  new  trouble  on  our  train  to  some  fresh  bit  of  matri- 
monial scheming,  she  arranged  her  search  in  the  expecta- 
tion of  finding  a  new  case  of  courtship. 

I  have  already  alluded  to  the  telephone  (connected  with 
the  locomotive)  which  had  been  put  in  the  train  at  Mrs. 
McGovern's  request.  Since  that  time  this  instrument  had 
been  used  almost  continuously,  Mrs.  McGovern  having 
been  at  it  morning,  noon  and  night.  If  that  woman  was 
wanted,  word  was  sure  to  come  back  that  she  was  at  the 
telephone.  I  concluded  that  maybe  Mrs.  McGovern, 
through  lack  of  training,  gave  her  orders  to  the  engineer 
in  such  a  way  that  they  were  either  not  understood  or  mis- 
construed, hence  he  was  obliged  to  call  her  frequently. 
Each  trade  is  run  by  its  own  peculiar  slang  and  pos- 
sibly Mrs.  McGovern  was  not  up  in  railroad  parlance, 
thereby  causing  the  engineer  much  uncertainty.  Possibly 
he  was  receiving  his  orders  in  purely  feminine  phrases. 
Therefore,  in  the  interest  of  all  on  the  train,  for  whose  wel- 
fare I  was  temporarily  responsible,  I  determined  to  do  a  bit 
of  eaves-dropping  from  a  closet  near  her  telephone. 


44  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

I  had  not  been  inside  more  than  a  moment  when  she 
came  into  the  car  and  went  tripping  up  to  the  'phone  with 
an  expression  indicating  something  good  to  come. 

This  is  what  I  heard  : 

"  Tmg-a-1-i-n-g  !  Hello,  loco  !  Is  that  you,  Harry  ?  Eh  ? 
Yes.  Whose  birdie  am  I  ?  Oh,  go  'way,  you  horrid  thing. 
Ha  !  ha !  ha !  Eh  ?  You  want  to  know  about  where  we 
pass  the  Limited  ?  Oh,  bother  the  Limited.  I  want  to  talk 
about  our  affairs  now.  Fm  sick  of  this  old  freak  train, 
anyway." 

This  was  train  management  with  a  vengeance  !  There 
was  a  very  mad  man  in  that  car  closet. 

"  I  can't  hear  you,  Harry,  dear,"  continued  Mrs.  Mc- 
Govern  at  the  'phone.  "  I  guess  old  Terwilliger  must  be 
standing  on  the  wire.  Ha  !  ha  !  Eh  ?  Yes  !  No  !  no  ! 
Well,  I  guess  I  just  wouldn't  let  you — there  !  Yes  !  If  you 
don't,  Fll  elope  with  the  fireman,  Mr.  Smarty.  What's  the 
matter  with  eloping  with  you  ?  Eh  ?  What's  that  ?  No, 
sir !  Yes,  yes,  sir  !  Nope.  'Sh-h-h.  Someone's  coming. 
Fll  leave  the  'phone  for  a  while,  or  Brown  Stone  may  sus- 
pect. What  about  that  Limited,  you  say  ?  Oh,  run  into  it, 
stupid,  if  you  can't  find  anything  else  to  do.  Go  out  and  oil 
the  cowcatcher  if  you  like.  Good-bye  for  a  while,  my  boy. 
I'll  join  you." 

As  she  left  the  car  I  issued  from  the  closet,  drew  a  long 
breath  and  sat  down,  dazed.  To-morrow  morning  this 
woman's  trunk  should  be  put  out  upon  the  prairie,  and  she  be 
left  there,  too.  No,  not  so  bad  as  that — she  should  be 
dropped  at  the  first  station  we  reached  after  daylight.  Just 
think  of  a  train  load  of  people  under  the  charge  of  such  a 
hussy — well,  I  must  say  I  felt  guilty  at  the  thought  of  my 
having  put  her  in  charge.  Yet  she  had  been  a  great  house- 
keeper. While  I  was  turning  over  the  matter  Aunt  Ter- 
williger suddenly  appeared,  asked  me  to  accompany  her  to 
the  forward  car,  and,  when  there,  I  was  requested  to  look 


I  m     STORY   OF    A    TRAIN   OF   CARS.  45 

out  of  the  window  which  faced  the  locomotive.  At  first  1 
could  not  see  anything  in  particular,  for  the  night  was  very 
dark,  but  when  the  fireman  opened  his  furnace  door 
and  a  flood  of  light  from  the  live  coals  shot  across  the 
tender,  I  saw  a  sight  which  explained  the  object  of  Aunt 
Terwilliger's  leading  me  to  the  spot  where  I  stood.  The 
fuel  was  banked  up  to  the  top  of  the  tender,  and  at  the  pin- 
nacle sat  our  train  conductor,  Mrs.  McGovern,  with  the 
engineer  close  alongside,  his  arm  around  her  waist.  It  was 
clear  that  they  were  having  a  most  enjoyable  time,  while 
the  accommodating  fireman  evidently  had  taken  charge  of 
the  train,  performing  the  double  duty  of  engineer  and 
stoker. 

I  complimented  my  aunt  on  her  neat  bit  of  detective 
work,  and  told  her  about  my  own.  That  night,  before  I 
retired  I  had  delivered  the  two  following  letters  : 

"  HENRY  KAYBOOSE, 

Engineer  Brown  Stone  Special. 

SIR-  Having  this  night  witnessed  your  tender  scene  on  the  tender, 
you  are  hereby  requested  to  report  to  me  in  the  car  Countess  Terwil- 
Hger  at  8  A.  M.  to-morrow,  with  reference  to  your  conduct. " 

The  second  one  read  : 

"MRS.  MCGOVERN, 

Conductor  Brown  Stone  Special. 

MADAM  :  You  are  hereby  requested  to  report  to  me  in  the  car  Countess 
Terwilliger  at  8  A.  M.  to-morrow,  relative  to  your  method  of  using  the  loco- 
motive telephone,  as  well  as  your  supervision  of  this  train  in  general." 

Along  toward  morning  I  had  a  queer  dream  to  the  effect 
that  all  the  iron  horses  of  the  country  were  attacked  with  a 
sort  of  epizooty  which  settled  on  their  steam  chests  and  so 
weakened  the  motive  power  that  of  a  sudden  they  all 
stopped  running,  leaving  them  and  their  cars  standing 
motionless  on  the  rails.  At  this  point  I  awoke  to  find 
my  own  train  stopped,  with  not  a  sound  to  be  heard  either 
inside,  or  out  on  the  tracks  I  smiled  as  the  thought  dreamily 


46  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

entered  my  mind  that  our  locomotive  was  also  a  victim  to 
the  epizooty,  and  then  I  dozed  off.  By  and  by  I  awoke 
again  to  find  the  train  still  motionless.  Doubtless  we 
were  on  a  siding,  waiting  for  some  other  train  to  pass. 
Then  I  dozed  once  more.  It  must  have  been  some  time 
after  when  I  awoke  with  a  start  and  still  our  train  was 
standing.  I  began  to  have  my  curiosity  aroused,  and  as  I 
•lay  there  it  struck  me  that  the  locomotive  was  unusually 
still;  there  not  being  even  an  occasional  wheeze  to  be  heard. 
Quite  awake  now,  I  opened  the  window  and  looked  out 
ahead.  The  train  was  standing  on  quite  a  sharp  curve 
which  enabled  me  to  look  right  into  the  cab  of  the  loco- 
motive. There  was  not  a  sign  of  either  an  engineer  or  fire- 
man in  there,  or  in  fact,  anywhere  else.  I  sat  watching 
for  five,  yes,  ten  minutes,  and  still  that  engine  remained 
vacant.  Clearly  there  was  something  wrong,  so  I  hurried 
on  my  clothes  and  started  to  leave  the  car.  On  the  way 
out  I  was  joined  by  Prof.  Braine,  who  was  also  curious  over 
this  long  delay.  We  went  straight  to  the  engine,  mounted 
the  cab,  and  when  there,  found  a  rough  scrawl  suspended 
from  the  steam  gauge  reading  as  follows  : 

"  MR.  BROWN  STONE  &  DUDES  : 

Next  stations  33  miles  from  heer,  and  if  you  want  this  trane  to  git 
their  youze  will  have  to  do  the  act  yourselves,  for  me  and  Mrs.  Mic- 
govern  has  eloped  and  the  firemans  gone  too  becorse  he  has  promised  to 
bee  our  Best  Man.  Yours, 

HARRY  KAYBOOSE." 

P.  S.  : — "  Mrs.  Mickgovern  and  me  ain't  takin'  no  talkin'  to  from  you 
so  we  sed  weed  lite  out  now." 

Here  was  a  situation  indeed.  A  long  train  33  miles 
from  any  station,  standing  in  the  heart  of  a  desolate  prairie, 
and  with  neither  engineer,  fireman  nor  conductor.  We 
couldn't  get  out  and  push  that  train,  and — 

"  My  friend,"  said  Prof.  Braine,  with  decision,  "if  you'll 
tend  the  fire,  I,  as  engineer,  will  agree  to  cover  those  thirty- 
three  miles." 


im     STORY    OK    A    TRAIN    OF   i  47 

I  could  have  hugged  him  for  the  practical  man  that  he 
was.  Seizing  a  shovel  and  throwing  wide  open  the  furnace 
door,  I  threw  in  coal  until  the  fire  was  nearly  smothered. 
I  said  to  myself,  "  The  more  coal  the  more  steam,"  where- 
as, as  I  afterwards  learned,  the  only  fire  for  steam  is  a  low 
one,  with  the  coals  aglow  clear  to  the  top.  This  means  a 
cushion  of  heated  air  between  the  fire  and  the  water  tubes. 
Prof.  Braine  meanwhile  was  studying  the  complex  mechan- 
ism before  him,  trying  to  determine  which  of  the  many 
valves,  cocks,  levers,  indicators  and  gauges  was  the  right 
one  to  start  the  monster.  Finally  recognizing  that  he 
who  hesitates  is  lost,  and  becoming  desperate,  he  put  his 
hand  to  the  machinery,  the  locomotive  gave  some  snorts 
and  then  began  to  back  the  train  !  We  craw- fished  five  miles 
before  we  learned  how  to  stop  that  sort  of  thing,  and  finally 
come  to  a  standstill.  Whew  !  We  wiped  the  perspiration 
from  our  brows  and  sank  into  the  cab  seats  from  sheer 
nervous  exhaustion. 

We  were  then  on  one  of  those  gigantic  loops  so  well 
known  to  those  who  have  traveled  on  western  roads. 

Running  alongside  of  us  only  a  few  feet  below  our  track 
was  another  part  of  this  loop.  We  had  been  seated  but  a 
moment  when  we  became  aware  of  an  oncoming  train  ;  and 
the  sound  denoted  a  very  high  rate  of  speed.  Was  this  train 
on  our  section  of  the  loop,  or  on  the  parallel  one  just  be- 
low? If  the  latter,  we  were  safe,  because  this  train  must 
travel  clear  around  the  loop  before  it  could  get  at  us,  and 
of  course  that  meant  that  the  engineer  would  have  plenty 
of  time  to  stop  after  sighting  us.  With  blanched  faces  and 
almost  paralyzed  with  fear  we  leaned  out  of  the  cab  window 
to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the  oncoming  train.  Heavens, 
how  it  must  be  coming  !  The  rails  began  to  give  that 
weird  metallic  ring  which  precedes  a  train,  and  then — the 
locomotive  hove  in  sight  !  It  was  a  locomotive  only;  a 
"  wild  "  engine — and — thank  heavens  ! — on  the  other  track 


48  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

in  front  of  us.  What  terrific  speed  !  The  big  drivers  were 
almost  misty  from  the  rapidity  of  their  revolutions. 

Oh,  the  exhilaration  of  watching  this  iron  monster  at  its 
best  !  In  a  twinkling  it  was  alongside  of  us  and  we  glanced 
in  the  cab  to  catch  a  sight  of  the  engineer  whose  hand 
controlled  all  this  magnificent  action.  One  look  into  the 
cab  and  Prof.  Braine  and  I  nearly  fell  back  in  a  faint. 
There  was  not  a  soul  to  be  seen — it  was  a  runaway  engine  ! 

In  order  that  the  reader  may  take  in  the  situation  let  me 
give  an  outline  of  the  loop,  and  show  the  location  of  the 
runaway  and  our  train. 


THE    LOOP    AND    THE    RUNAWAY    LOCOMOTIVE. 

While  the  loop  was,  say  three  miles  in  length,  it  is 
apparent  that  it  would  be  a  question  of  only  a  very  brief 
time  before  that  runaway  would  travel  around  the  circle, 
rush  down  upon  us,  and  smash  into  the  rear  of  our  train. 

It  being  early  morning,  every  passenger  was  in  his  or  her 
berth,  and  there  would  not  be  time  to  rouse  them  and  get 
them  off  the  train  before  the  runaway  would  crash  into  us. 
No.  Prof.  Braine  and  I  recognized  that  our  only  salvation 
was  to  start  our  train  and  keep  it  ahead  of  the  runaway. 
So  we  turned  to  the  mass  of  valves,  cocks,  levers,  indicators 
and  gauges.  One  thing  we  had  learned — how  to  back  the 


THE  STORY  OK  A  TRAIN  OF  CARS.          49 

engine.  Now  the  vital  question  was  how  to  start  it  I 
glanced  back  at  the  runaway  and  felt  a  sickening  sensation 
as  I  saw  it  had  done  a  mile  of  the  loop  already  while  we 
were  still  standing  on  the  rails.  In  desperation  I  pulled  a 
lever  in  front  of  me  and  experienced  the  thrill  of  a  lifetime 
as  our  locomotive  with  a  great  snort  started  ahead /  Huzzah ! 
We  were  moving;  but  not  an  instant  too  soon,  for  we  look- 
ed back  and  saw  the  runaway  rounding  the  curve.  Our  en- 
gine began  to  gather  headway,  but  it  seemed  a  snail's  pace 
in  those  moments  of  agony,  and  I  gave  the  lever  another 
pull.  The  effect  was  just  appreciable,  that  was  all;  and  we 
rumbled  at  a  sort  of  a  slow-freight  pace,  while  another 
glance  back  showed  the  runaway  directly  behind  us  and 
actually  eating  the  space  that  lay  between  it  and  the  rear  of 
our  train. 

I  looked  at  the  steam  gauge  and  even  an  amateur  could 
tell  that  the  indicator  should  have  been  further  around  than 
it  was.  1  opened  the  furnace  door  and  saw  that  the  heap 
of  coal  I  had  thrown  in  was  not  yet  ignited  at  the  top.  I 
began  to  realize  that  this  was  wrong.  The  fire  wasn't  giv- 
ing us  sufficient  steam. 

A  horrible  fascination  made  me  look  behind  again  and 
there  was  that  weird  monster  within  a  half  a  mile  of  us, 
and  I  saw  that  even  with  our  train  in  motion  it  would  still 
hit  us  a  terrific  blow.  In  desperation  I  seized  a  huge  poker 
and  began  to  rake  away  the  dead  coal  at  the  top  so  that 
the  live  fire  could  get  at  the  steam  pipes.  We  were  moving 
now  at  a  better  pace,  but  still  too  slowly,  too  slowly.  I 
saw  Prof.  Braine  drop  back  in  a  faint  but  I  could  not  spare 
a  moment  to  attend  to  him. 

Again  I  looked  back  and  there  was  the  runaway,  not 
more  than  a  city  block  away.  My  fancy  began  to  run  away 
too,  and  I  imagined  I  could  see  the  monster  drawing  itself 
together  preparatory  to  making  one  supreme  spurt  toward 
us.  This  demon,  that  had  always  been  so  docile  to  the 


50  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

slightest  touch  of  the  engineer,  was  now  for  the  first  time  its 
own  master,  and  frenzied  with  the  exhilaration  of  the 
moment  had  resolved  to  make  the  speed  record  of  the 
century.  We  were  in  its  way.  Well  then,  so  much  the 
worse  for  us.  Nearer,  nearer,  it  drew,  while  our  own  engine 
was  comfortably  jogging  along  as  if  its  only  duty  in  life 
was  to  haul  a  huckleberry  train.  Oh,  it  was  agony  !  I 
gave  up  working  over  our  locomotive.  What  more  could  I 
do — an  ignoramus  ?  I  stood  glued  to  the  cab  waiting 
for  the  crash,  and  watched  that  engine  close  up  the  breach 
with  fearful  rapidity.  In  a  few  minutes  it  would  be  all  up  with 
our  end  car,  if  not  with  the  whole  train.  Suddenly  there 
was  a  violent  commotion  on  the  runaway,  and  one  of  the 
driving  rods  shot  away  from  its  wheel  and  began  to  pound 
the  engine.  Then  it  became  caught  in  the  machinery  and 
there  was  a  grand  crash — huge  pieces  of  metal  being 
bulged  and  twisted  in  a  twinkling.  But  what  thrilled  me 
most  was  that  this  final  crash,  just  as  the  monster  was  on 
top  of  us,  seemed  to  lift  one  side  of  it,  and  the  first  thing 
I  knew  the  engine  had  left  the  rails  and  was  rolling  over 
and  over,  down  an  embankment,  roaring  and  hissing  as  it 
went,  like  a  suddenly  vanquished  Titan. 

And  then  I  rolled  over,  too — in  a  dead  faint. 

When  I  recovered  I  was  lying  on  my  back  on  the  cab 
floor;  and,  of  course,  I  did  not  for  the  moment  take  in  my  sur- 
roundings. But  after  awhile  I  became  conscious  of  the 
fact  that  Prof.  Braine  was  peering  out  of  the  cab  window 
and  apparently  watching  something  ahead,  the  sight  of 
which  must  be  freezing  his  blood,  judging  from  the  blanched 
expression  on  his  face. 

I  unsteadily  arose,  nerved  by  a  feeling  of  possible  new 
horror  to  come,  reached  the  opposite  cab  window  and 
looked  out  ahead.  Things  had  been  tidied  up  at  the  rear 
of  the  train  as  has  been  seen,  but  evidently  dead  ahead 
there  were  new  dangers  to  be  faced.  Directly  in  front  of 


THE   STORY   OK    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  51 

us  was  a  man  violently  waving  a  red  danger  flag,  and  with 
his  other  arm  gesticulating  like  a  madman.  Beyond  him 
I  could  see  a  loose  railroad  tie  lying  across  the  track,  and 
this  piece  of  wood  had  evidently  been  placed  there  to  stay, 
for  huge  rocks  were  piled  on  top  of  it.  Some  one  //</</ 
intended  to  wreck  our  cars  ! 

Fate  seemed  terribly  severe  that  day.  We  had  just  lived 
down  one  horror,  only  to  be  confronted  by  another. 

"  Do  you  know  how  to  stop  a  train  ? "  shouted  a  hoarse 
voice  in  my  ear.  It  was  Prof.  Braine,  the  picture  of 
total  collapse.  Stop  a  train  ?  I  nearly  collapsed  myself, 
as  I  suddenly  realized  that  this  necessitated  two  distinct 
moves  on  the  great  locomotive  chess  board  before  me. 
First,  the  steam  must  be  shut  off  of  the  engine;  and  second, 
the  air  brakes  must  be  applied.  There  was  a  task  for  an 
ignoramus  ! 

When  we  needed  speed  we  could  not  get  it ;  but  now, 
when  speed  was  fatal,  our  engine,  with  human  perversity, 
was  rushing  along  at  a  rapid  rate. 

As  we  passed  the  man  he  performed  his  final  duty  by 
emitting  a  fearful  whoop  of  warning,  and  he  seemed  both 
surprised  and  disgusted  that  we  had  not  already  brought  the 
train  to  a  short  stop. 

The  agony  was  on  me  again,  and  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  there  was  not  a  toss  up  between  a  rear-end  danger, 
and  a  front-end  danger.  Curious  ideas  came  again,  and  I 
thought  what  a  fortune  a  play  would  make  by  introducing 
a  railroad  scene  representing  our  experiences  of  that  early 
morning. 

We  were  rushing  into  that  tie,  when  in  a  wild  delirium,  I 
hit  the  lucky  combination,  and  the  train  stopped  within  five 
feet  of  the  death  trap. 

Then  Prof.  Braine  and  I  joined  each  other  in  a  fraternal 
faint. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THAT  OBSTRUCTION  ON  THE  TRACK. 

OUR  train  now  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  a  Hero,  a  real 
flesh-and-blood  Hero,  the  outcome  of  the  morning's 
railroading  detailed  in  the  previous  chapter.  This  per- 
sonage was  not  Prof.  Braine,  in  spite  of  the  important  part 
which  that  gentleman  had  played  in  our  rear-end  and 
front-end  perils.  Neither  was  it  the  writer  of  these  obscure 
lines. 

No.  Our  Hero  was  the  man  who  had  waived  that  red 
flag  and  thereby  warned  us  of  the  tie  on  the  track.  As  a 
result  of  that  act  he  had  been  invited  to  join  us  on  our  trip, 
an  invitation  which  he  readily  accepted  ;  and  from  the 
stage  of  the  Theatre  Car  he  soon  gave  a  discourse,  which 
contained  the  details  of  the  intended  train  wrecking. 

Two  Swedes  and  a  Norwegian,  hard  characters  here- 
abouts, were  the  monsters  who  had  placed  the  obstructions  on 
the  rails.  Unconsciously  walking  up  the  track,  Our  Hero  had 
surprised  them,  red  handed,  in  the  act.  With  a  yell  of  rage 
they  pounced  on  him,  bound  and  gagged  him,  and  dragged 
him  to  a  near-by  copse  where  he  was  left.  He  lay  there  in 
agony,  not  over  his  own  plight,  but  at  the  thought  that  a 
train  would  soon  come  along  and  rush  into  the  death  trap. 
He  squirmed,  writhed,  and  twisted,  but  the  ropes  held  him 
a  prisoner. 

Those  who  have  lived  on  the  plains  well  know  to  what 
lengths  wild  cattle  will  go  to  get  salt.  The  brutes  have 
even  been  known  to  tear  and  chew  old  castaway  clothes  for 
the  sake  of  a  certain  suggestion  of  salt  within  the  garments. 
As  Our  Hero  lay  there  in  a  perfect  agony  of  mind,  a  large 
steer  came  browsing  along,  and  upon  reaching  the  prostrate 
man,  instead  of  goring  him,  began  to  sniff  at  the  ropes,  as 
if  there  was  something  amazingly  good  about  them.  Our 


THE  STORY  OP  A  TRAIN  OF  CARS.          53 

Hero  subsequently  learned  that  these  ropes  had  been  recently 
used  for  strapping  together  bundles  of  salt  cod  fish,  and 
they  were  consequently  saturated  with  the  saline  mineral. 
Our  Hero  lay  as  if  dead,  in  order  that  the  steer  might 
not  have  the  least  excuse  to  get  either  scared  or  mad. 
What  he  wished  the  animal  to  be  encouraged  in  was  a  placid 
mind,  and  an  unconquerable  appetite  for  salt — a  program 
which,  it  proved,  was  quite  satisfactory  to  the  steer.  The 
animal  began  to  lick  the  ropes ;  then  he  became  really 
interested  and  began  to  chew  them.  Well,  the  result  was 
that  the  steer  freed  the  man,  who  thereupon  rushed  forth 
just  in  time  to  give  us  the  warning.  We  marveled  at  this 
strange  tale,  and  concluded  that  maybe  the  animal  was  really 
the  one  who  had  been  the  cause  of  our  rescue.  There  was 
a  nice  point,  a  fine  discrimination  to  settle  in  this  matter. 


THE  SEAL  OF  THE  COWCATCHER  CLUB. 

The  Cowcatcher  Club  favored  the  steer  theory,  and 
thereafter  regarded  Our  Hero  as  the  animal's  proxy  in  the 
matter  of  receiving  any  attentions  and  honors.  The  Club 
presented  him  with  a  medal,  while  I  gave  him  what  I 
suspect  he  preferred — five  new  one  hundred  dollar  bills. 
I  presented  these,  not  to  the  steer's  proxy,  but  to  the  man, 
as  I  was  among  those  who  considered  the  latter  our  real 
rescuer. 

Some  time  after  this  Hiram  Slowpoke  came  to  me  and 
held  forth  a  small  roll  of  new  bills. 

"  What's  this  ? "   I  asked. 

"Yourn"  replied  Hiram,  laconically. 


54  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

"  But  no  one  owes  me  any  money,"  said  I. 

"Yourn,  howsomever,"  persisted  Hiram. 

I  took  the  money,  and  unrolled  the  bills.  There  were 
five  new  one  hundred  dollar  notes. 

"Why  !  "  I  cried,  astonished,  " these  are  the  very  ones  I 
presented  to  the  flagman." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Hiram. 

"Well,  but — what  in  'nation  are  you  doing  with  this 
money  ?  Where's  Our  Hero  ? " 

Hiram  grinned.     "  I  kicked  him  off'n  the  train,"  said  he. 

"  What  !  "  I  gasped.  The  idea  of  kicking  the  man  to 
whom  we  might  be  said  to  be  indebted  for  our  lives,  caused 
me  to  fly  into  a  violent  passion.  I  believe  I  was  about  to 
do  a  bodily  injury  to  Hiram  Slowpoke,  when  he  checked 
me  with  a  remark,  the  philosophy  of  which  penetrated  even 
my  heated  brain. 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,  Squire,  that  a  man  ain't  never 
kicked  unless  there's  some  powerful  reason  for  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  well — what  was  your  reason  for  daring  to  touch 
that  man— my  rescuer  and  guest  ? " 

"  'Cause  he  was  a  hoax,  a  gol  darned  fraud.    That's  what." 

"  Eh  ?  "  I  could  only  say. 

"  I  ain't  no  railroader,  nor  I  ain't  no  fool,  neither.  I've 
handled  cattle  in  my  day,  so  I  ain't  to  be  took  in  by  no 
yarns  about  their  chewin'  the  fetters  off'n  a  prisoner.  That 
yarn  was  very  salt,  but  you  people  appeared  to  be  pretty 
fresh.  The  minute  he  told  that  tale  I  put  him  down  for  a 
beat,  an'  I  calc'lated  I'd  spot  him  sooner  or  later.  Bimeby 
I  got  him  boozy,  and  then  he  let  it  all  out.  'Pears  he  learned 
that  our  train  was  comin'  an'  that  it  was  a  millionaire's 
affair,  so  he  just  goes  and  lays  that  tie  an'  those  rocks  across 
the  rails.  Then  when  we  comes  along,  he  ups  and  whoops 
and  hollers  like  mad,  and  we  takes  him  to  our  arms  for 
savin*  this  here  train  ;  he  gits  five  hundred  dollars,  a  medal, 
and  goodness  knows  what.  How  he  did  jest  bust  hisself 


im     STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  55 

laughin'  at  the  way  he  played  the — the — tenderhoofs.  I 
think  he  called  us.  At  this  point  I  up  an'  kicked  him  off'n 
the  train.  I  tenderfooted  him.  Now  say,  Stone,  if  I've 
done  wrong,  maybe  you'd  best  kick  me  off  too." 

I  pushed  the  money  back  into  his  hands,  and  meditatively 
strolled  away.  In  an  aimless  moment  I  went  to  the  Bon 
MarchS  car  and  the  sight  of  various  novelties  there  spread 
out  for  sale,  diverted  my  mind  from  what  now  proved  an 
unpleasant  feature  of  our  trip.  The  floor  walker  of  the  Bon 
jf/<7/r/r/ said  he  had  something  especial  to  show  me,  and  I 
was  conducted  to  the  dressmaking  section,  where,  displayed 
on  frames,  were  two  complete  trousseaux. 

With  the  least  suggestion  of  irony  I  remarked  that  such 
things  ought  to  be  very  salable  on  a  train  which  was  seeing 
so  much  match  making. 

"They  are  sold,  already,"  replied  the  floor  walker. 

"Of  course  they  are,"  said  I. 

"  The  two  brides  who  will  don  them  are  going  to  ask  you 
to  afford  them  the  privilege  of  being  married  on  this  train. 
A  great  novelty,  you  know.  Never  such  a  thing  known 
before,"  rattled  on  the  floor  walker. 

"  Exactly,"  I  replied — "and  these  brides  are  Miss  Howes, 
Miss  Dawes  or  Miss  Sill." 

"  Nope,"  replied  the  floor  walker,  with  a  mysterious  grin. 
Those  are  the  only  engaged  young  ladies  on  the  train," 
I  confidently  remarked. 

Without  any  further  comment  the  floor  walker  produced 
a  just-issued  copy  of  The  Tunnel  Gazette,  and  under  the  head 
of  "  Matrimonial  Announcements  "  I  found  that  the  Misses 
Hall  and  Eaves  had  joined  the  great  majority. 

Thus,  then,  had  my  five  eligibles  glided  into  the  arms  of 
other  men. 

Thus  vanished  a  well-planned  matrimonial  scheme  ;  and 
there  was  nothing  left  for  me  but  to  become  a  recluse.  Five 
beautiful  girls,  and  not  one  for  me.  Verily  I  was  a  hymeneal 
hoodoo. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

AUNT     TERWILLIGER. 

^NOWING  my  aunt's  chagrin  at  the  former  engage- 
ments,  I  could  imagine  her  feelings  over  this  final 
closing-out,  as  it  were,  of  the  eligibles ;  and  I  almost  forgot 
my  own  disappointment  in  commiseration  for  what  I  felt 
must  be  her  vexation.  I  determined  to  soothe  her  with 
the  reminder  that  there  were  other  eligibles  in  the  world. 
It  seemed  strange  that  I  had  not  received  this  double  en- 
gagement news  from  her,  for  she  had  the  scent  of  a  sleuth 
hound  for  courting  events;  besides  the  fact  that  there 
were  two  trousseaux  in  the  shopping  car  was  quite  enough 
to  give  every  woman  on  the  train  a  burning  desire  for 
knowledge. 

She  seemed  to  be  avoiding  me  and  this  I  construed  as 
the  result  of  a  desire  not  to  be  placed  in  a  position 
where  she  might  feel  called  upon  to  discuss  an  unpleasant 
matter.  When  I  purposely  put  myself  in  her  way,  she 
seemed  confused,  and  only  talked  of  the  most  conventional 
things;  and  if  I  started  to  say  something  about  matrimony, 
she  hastily'excused  herself  and  withdrew.  This  was  very 
different  from  what  she  had  been. 

About  this  time  I  learned  a  curious  thing  about  the 
five  engaged  young  ladies.  To  show  my  continued  kind- 
ly feeling,  I  arranged  a  reception  for  them.  During 
this  delightful  affair  my  matrimonial  scheme  somehow 
leaked  out,  and  instead  of  getting  annoyed  at  such  a  cut- 
and-dried  arrangement,  as  many  young  ladies  would  have 
done,  they  each  developed  a  strong  feeling  of  pity  for  me, 
and  this  took  such  possession  of  the  five  that  they  formed 
a  secret  society,  which  they  named  the  Bride-Elect  Circle; 
the  sole  object  of  which  was  to  search  out  a  suitable  mate 


I  Hi     STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  57 

for  me  !  I  learned  that  they  were  to  keep  a  secret  surveil- 
lance over  me,  and  immediately  I  came  into  the  company 
of  a  pretty,  single  woman,  a  countersign  was  to  be  exchanged 
between  them.  If  she  struck  them  favorably,  a  double 
cough  from  each  would  declare  the  fact,  and  they  would  at 
once  begin  to  make  themselves  agreeable.  If  the  new 
comer,  on  the  other  hand,  did  not  pass  this  initial  scrutiny, 
they  would  each  push  out  the  toe  of  the  right  boot  so  that 
it  would  appear  just  beyond  the  dress,  and  this  to  be  a 
signal  that  the  woman  was  to  be  thwarted.  Hiram  Slow- 
poke overheard  this  program,  and  told  me  about  it,  adding 
with  a  chuckle,  that  he  hoped  he  would  be  present  when 
those  little  toes  peeped  out.  It  would  be  more  fun  than  a 
"skimmerton."  As  for  me,  I  cannot  say  that  I  enjoyed  the 
prospect  of  having  a  lot  of  women  scouting  about  for  my 
coming  wife.  This  sort  of  thing  might  do  for  a  Royal 
Infant,  but  I  was  a  full  grown  American  man.  Still,  I  had, 
as  folks  told  me,  an  amiable  disposition,  and  I  suppose  this 
kept  me  from  making  any  fuss  over  the  affair.  Besides, 
the  scheme  was  prompted  by  a  spirit  of  friendliness  to  me. 
a  fact  which  I  did  not  forget. 

To  return  to  Aunt  Terwjlliger,  I  was  concerned  at  her 
evident  sensitiveness  over  the  collapse  of  my  matrimonial 
scheme,  and  I  determined  to  put  her  mind  at  rest  the  next 
time  we  met.  When  we  again  came  together,  a  third  party 
played  a  very  important  part  in  the  interview,  and  that  person 
was  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  eminent  Professor  Braine. 
During  one  of  those  long,  delicious  twilights,  so  common 
on  the  prairies,  I  was  walking  through  the  train,  when  I 
nearly  stumbled  over  a  couple  very  compactly  stowed  away 
in  a  dusky  corner.  With  all  the  billing  and  cooing  then 
under  headway,  this  was  by  no  means  an  unusual  occur- 
rence, so  I  continued  on  without  giving  the  matter  a 
thought.  I  had  not,  however,  gone  more  than  a  couple  of 
steps  when  the  voices  I  heard  coming  from  this  couple  con- 
vinced me  that  here  was  something  out  of  the  ordinary. 


58  THE  STORY  OF  A  TRAIN  OF  CARS. 

When  man  experiences  a  great  disappointment  he  takes 
to  drink.  My  aunt  had  adopted  a  more  feminine  method — 
instead  of  taking  to  drink,  she  had  taken  to— ra  man.  First  I 
heard  Prof.  Braine  :  "How  much  longer  are  you  to  keep 
me  waiting  ?  "  said  the  Professor. 


PROF.    BRAINE    AND    AUNT    TERWILLIGER. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  my  aunt  replied,  "  I  do  de- 
clare, my  position  is  most  embarrassing !  Here  are  five 
young  ladies  on  this  train,  also  a  number  of  passable 
newspaper  men.  A  perfect  epidemic  of  courting  sweeps 
through  the  cars  with  the  result  that  each  day's  sun  goes 
down  on  a  new  engagement,  until  what  were  ten  distinct 
individuals  at  the  start,  can  only  be  considered  now  as  five. 
For  reasons  which  we  need  not  discuss,  these  engagements 
were  intensely  distasteful  to  me,  and  the  result  was  that  to 
one  person  on  this  train — my  nephew,  Brown  Stone — I  un- 
mercifully criticised  what  I  then  called  the  bad  taste  and 
vulgar  haste  of  each  couple."  There  was  a  slight  pause 
here,  my  aunt  evidently  experiencing  another  spell  of  em- 
barrassment. 

"  Now,  Professor,  dear,"  resumed  my  aunt,  "  after  crying 
out  against  the  action  of  these  girls,  how  can  I  have  the 


THE   STORY   OF    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  59 

face  to  stand  before  my  good-hearted  nephew,  and  con 
that  I  have  done  the  very  thing  that  I  so  criticised  in  thci 

•  My  dear  Mrs.  Terwilliger,"  replied  Prof.  Braine,  "claim 
a  woman's  right  to  be  inconsistent." 

"What,"  said  my  aunt  playfully,  "do  you  expect  to  gain 
me  by  being  ungallant  to  my  sex  ? " 

"I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,"  said  Prof.  Braine,  hastily. 

I  had  been  eaves-dropping  too  long  already,  and  these 
worthy  people  had  suffered  quite  enough  from  a  predica- 
ment of  their  own  over-conscientiousness,  so  I  determined 
to  settle  the  matter  right  then  and  there. 

"  My  dear  friends,"  I  said,  advancing  out  of  the  dusk  of 
the  car,  "there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun.  For  all  we 
know,  there  may  have  been  stenographers  in  early  Egypt 
who  took  down  hieroglyphics  by  shorthand — nay  more — 
there  may  have  been  fair  Egyptian  girls  with  hieroglyphic 
writers  who  did  the  work  of  the  pretty  typewriters  of  to- 
Again,  for  all  we  know,  a  party  of  them  may  have  gone 
off  junketing  on  the  Nile  with  the  result  that  five  couples 
were  soon  engaged  and  a  sixth  one  longed  to  be.  And 
then  some  Pharoah  may  have  ordered  that  this  sixth  couple 
be  united  forthwith,  he  considering  them  the  best  beloved 
of  the  lot.  Now,  my  dear  aunt,  having  shown  that  all 
these  engagements  and  most  particularly  yours,  are  not 
unusual,  nothing  remains  but  for  me  to  tell  you  to  go 
ahead,  and  may  you  have  all  the  good  luck  that  I  now  wish 
you." 

At  that  moment  the  interview  was  brought  to  a  close  by 
the  sudden  appearance  of  Hiram  Slowpoke,  who  announced 
with  great  glee  that  we  were  but  a  short  distance  from  the 
town  of  Sleepy  Eye,  Minnesota,  and  that  he,  too,  would 
then  have  a  woman  to  hug. 

I  asked  him,  rather  sternly,  what  he  meant  by  such  a  re- 
mark. He  replied  with  a  grin,  that  he  alluded  to  his 
daughter,  Kate  Slowpoke,  whom  he  expected  to  meet  there. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    WIDE-AWAKE    TOWN    OF    SLEEPY    EYE. 

SO  far,  every  town  at  which  we  had  stopped  extended 
more  or  less  courtesies  to  us  ;  some  of  the  prom- 
inent men  in  the  place  called  upon  us  in  our  train, 
occasionally  the  village  band  serenaded  us,  flower  pieces 
were  delivered  at  the  cars,  and  in  other  ways  we  were 
made  to  feel  that  we  were  welcome. 

But  there  is  a  first  time  for  everything,  and  at  Sleepy 
Eye  we  were,  for  some  reason  unknown  until  later,  made 
to  feel  that  we  were  not  wanted,  and  that  a  train  load  of 
cattle  would  have  been  more  welcome. 

This  was  probably  the  first  time  known  to  history  of  a 
western  boom  town  that  did  not  hail  an  addition  to  its 
population.  Very  few  of  the  inhabitants  came  to  the 
station,  which  was  strange,  for  it  must  be  confessed  our 
train  contained  many  features,  which  in  all  other  places  had 
proved  magnets  to  draw  the  curiosity  seeker.  The  few 
men  in  this  small  place  who  did  condescend  to  come  to  the 
station  to  see  our  train,  while  approving  the  cars,  eyed  their 
occupants  with  evident  disfavor.  We  all  marveled  at  this, 
not  knowing  what  we  had  done  to  offend  the  good  citizens 
of  Sleepy  Eye  ;  and  the  ladies  of  the  party  asked  me  why  I 
loitered  in  such  a  horrid  place,  to  which  I  replied  that  a 
growing  feeling  of  curiosity  caused  me  to  remain  ;  I 
wanted  to  learn  what  this  unaccountable  enmity  meant. 

I  had  seen  Kate  Slowpoke  but  once  since  I  arrived  at 
Sleepy  Eye.  I  was  seated  in  one  of  the  cars,  reading  that 
excruciatingly  funny  book,  "  The  Thrilling  Experience  of 
a  Rooster  and  Three  Hens,"  when^Hiram  Slowpoke  entered 
with  his  daughter,  and  with  a  beaming  face  presented  her 
to  me,  as  well  as  to  the  Bride-Elect  Circle,  all  the  members 


im     STORY    OK    A    TRAIN    OK   CARS.  6l 

of  which  were  present.  Kate  Slowpoke  was  a  very  comely 
woman,  with  that  nonchalant  bearing  which  is  so  character- 
istic of  what  is  known  as  the  wild  and  woolly  west.  She 
eyed  the  brides  fearlessly,  and  while  there  was  not  a  sug- 
gestion of  anything  brazen,  yet  standing  there,  one  felt, 
was  a  self-reliant  woman  of  the  plains.  In  turn,  the  five 
eligibles  were  giving  her  the  closest  scrutiny  allowed  by 
good  breeding.  They  were  society  exotics,  and  could  not 
but  experience  that  sense  of  inferiority  which  the  im- 
practical feel  when  brought  face  to  face  with  the  practical. 
Kate  Slowpoke  had  been  a  stenographer,  trained  nurse, 
dressmaker  and  school  teacher.  While  those  five  were 
frittering  away  the  hours  with  society  small  talk,  she  was 
doing  part  of  the  world's  work,  and  at  the  same  time  earn- 
ing her  own  way.  The  woman  who  aids  herself  is  one  of 
the  notable  products  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  and  Kate 
Slowpoke  was  one  of  these.  Only  her  surname  was  against 
her,  but  that  would  doubtless  disappear  in  due  time. 

She  opened  with  some  remarks  which  the  brides  evidently 
did  not  fancy,  for  I  immediately  became  conscious  that  five 
wee  toes  were  peeping  out  from  the  bottoms  of  five  dresses. 
It  will  be  recalled  that  Hiram  Slowpoke  hoped  he  would  be 
present  when  the  Circle  gave  this  signal.  He  had  said  it 
would  be  rare  sport  to  see  these  five  girls  secretly  un- 
complimentary to  some  newly-introduced  woman.  How 
the  situation  was  changed  from  what  he  had  expected! 
There  were  the  girls  indulging  in  an  uncomplimentary 
pantomime  about  his  daughter !  For  a  moment  I  thought 
he  would  make  some  very  uncomfortable  remark,  but  I  had 
already  noticed  that  he  possessed  considerable  native  good 
sense  ;  so  without  saying  anything  whatever,  but  in  high 
dudgeon,  he  grasped  one  of  her  wrists  and  walked  her  out 
of  our  car.  Kate  Slowpoke  did  not  come  to  see  us  again, 
and  I  fancy  there  was  some  confusion  thereat  in  the  ranks  of 
the  Bride-Elect  Circle. 


62  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

Had  she  poisoned  the  small  settlement  against  us  ?  The 
Circle  insisted  that  all  this  coldness  toward  us  was  because 
this  woman  was  going  about  saying  hard  things  about  our 
party.  I  did  not  accept  this  idea  because  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  Kate  Slowpoke  was  not  that  sort  of  a  woman. 
Concerning  this  coldness  on  the  part  of  the  people  of 
Sleepy  Eye,  someone  may  ask  why  we  did  not  inquire  what 
was  wrong.  Of  course,  this  would  have  been  a  simple  way 
to  solve  the  mystery,  but  then  the  question  of  pride  comes 
in,  and  one  does  not  like  to  bluntly  ask  a  stranger  if  he 
likes  you,  and  if  not,  why  not.  No,  we  agreed  to  await 
developments.  Human  nature  is  perverse.  We  actually 
developed  a  strong  desire  to  make  the  people  of  Sleepy 
Eye  like  us,  and  if  one  of  the  natives  had  fallen  overboard, 
I  for  one  would  have  immediately  jumped  into  the  water  to 
rescue  the  unfortunate. 

An  early  number  of  The  Sleepy  Eye-Opener,  contained 
an  article  which  quite  reversed  this  sentiment.  Imagine 
yourself  in  my  place,  reading  the  following  bit  of  western 
newspaper  writing : 

"  Why  don't  those  Wall  Street  gold  bugs,  down  on  the  station  siding, 
light  out?  Perhaps  they  are  waiting  for  us  to  present  them  with  the 
freedom  of  the  city.  If  so,  they'll  get  it  nicely  done  up  in  an  old  tomato 
can.  That's  the  way  we  do  the  grand  act  with  chippy  chasers.  There 
isn't  any  sight-seeing  around  here.  For  instance,  the  only  thing  worth 
looking  at  to-day  was  Dod  Judson  chasing  that  brindled  ki-yi  to- 
ward the  national  boundary  line;  but  we  opine  that  these  effete  Easterners 
would  turn  up  their  noses  at  such  a  rib-tickling  scrimmage. 

Then  why  don't  these  gold  bugs  move  on  ?  The  reason  is  just  because 
they  are  working  a  conspiracy  on  this  settlement  and  the  Eye-Opener 
knows  whereof  it  speaks. 

After  a  lot  of  hustling,  we've  induced  a  lady  to  come  here  and  fire 
facts  into  the  thought  cases  of  our  kids.  She's  making  the  local  tree  of 
knowledge  bigger  than  a  California  Redwood,  and  with  such  a  teacher 
even  Numskull  Nick  is  doing  the  spelling  book  act.  People  are  beginning  to 
settle  because  they  have  heard  of  Sleepy  Eye's  school  and  it's  a  school- 
ma'am,  bless  her  ! 


THE    STORY    OK    A    TRAIN    OK    *  6j 

NN  dl,  just  as  we  get  this  business  booming,  along  comes  this  money- 
bags-on-whccls  affair,  and  its  inhabitants  make  efforts  to  take  away  our 
schoolma'am.  We  have  a  tenderfoot  memory  and  that's  why  we  can't 
recollect  whether  it  was  thirteen  days  or  two  weeks  ago  when  an  intruder 
within  the  gates,  left  town  with  more  feathers  on  him  than  a  Hnllyhoo 
Amtritiinus.  This  is  a  hint  for  the  train  folks.  Stand  firm.  Kate  ! 
r  be  an  American  in  Arizona  than  a  nondescript  in  New  York.  We 
can  only  say  that  the  boys  are  on  the  lookout,  and  if  your  gripsack  is  seen 
going  to  the  depot,  there  will  be  something  worse  than  a  tutti-frutti  strike 
in  these  parts.  \Vc  give  this  allopathic  warning  to  whom  it  may  concern." 

This,  then,  was  the  secret  of  our  cold  reception.  We 
were  kidnappers,  come  to  take  away  the  flower  of  the 
settlement.  We  were  going  to  carry  off  the  schoolma'am. 
The  idea  was  a  novel  one.  Suppose  we  should  continue 
this  course  with  each  town  and  filch  its  leading  citizen,  then 
take  these  people  and  start  a  new  city.  What  sort  of  a 
town  could  be  made  from  the  pick  of  the  citizens  of  all  the 
cities  of  the  United  States?  Would  it  be  an  immense 
success  or  a  great  fizzle  ? 

One  important  item  in  The  SUfpy  Eye-Opener  I  cannot 
allow  myself  to  pass  unnoticed.  It  read  like  this  : 

"  Charles  T.  Dempster  is  looking  sallow.  Better  take  a  good  dose  of 
medicine  Saturday  night,  Charley." 

We  concluded  that  The  Sleepy  Eye-Opener  had  furnished 
one  of  the  most  amusing  experiences  of  the  trip,  and  now 
that  my  curiosity  regarding  Sleepy  Eye's  coldness  was 
gratified,  we  began  to  talk  of  pulling  out  of  the  place. 
At  least,  the  ladies  so  discussed  the  matter.  They  said, 
among  other  things,  that  Charles  T.  Dempster  ought  to 
have  a  chance  to  take  that  dose  of  medicine  in  peace.  As 
for  myself,  I  could  not  quite  conclude  whether  I  was  ready 
to  leave  Sleepy  Eye.  bucroh  Library 

A  copy  of  The  Sleepy  Eye-Opener  found  its  way  into  the 
cab  of  the  locomotive  and  here  the  article  about  our  train 
produced  quite  a  different  effect  from  what  it  had  among 
us  in  the  car.  The  new  engineer  was  a  great  admirer  of 


64  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

mine,  and  took  deep  umbrage  at  the  way  the  paper  alluded 
to  our  train.  He  was,  too,  considerable  of  a  dare  devil, 
and  the  idea  that  trouble  would  follow  the  public  appear- 
ance of  Kate  Slowpoke's  gripsack,  struck  him  as  being  a 
blow  at  personal  liberty  ;  and,  what  was  of  more  moment, 
a  sort  of  challenge  to  our  train.  He  brooded  over  this 
thought  until  his  manhood  arose,  then  he  informed  the  fire- 
man that  he  proposed  to  get  that  gripsack  and  carry  it 
from  one  end  of  the  place  to  the  other,  just  to  show  them 
that  we  were  not  to  be  bulldozed.  After  a  while  this 
scheme  palled  upon  him,  but  only  because  it  seemed  too 
tame  an  answer  to  such  a  challenge.  He  thought  he  could 
improve  on  the  gripsack  idea  and  cast  more  contempt  on 
the  people  of  Sleepy  Eye,  so  he  secured  a  large  empty 
trunk,  and  on  the  sides,  in  huge  letters,  he  painted  this 
legend  : 


K.  SLOWPOKE. 

Her  Trunk. 
She  shakes  Sleepy  Eye  to-day, 

and  after  she's  gone, 

this  hole  will  be  called  Black  Eye. 


And  with  this  carnage-breeder,  the  foolish  man  actually 
started  to  go  the  rounds  of  that  wild  frontier  settlement. 

Trouble  began  promptly,  and  word  was  sent  to  me  that 
my  engineer  was  being  mobbed.  At  that  time  I  knew 
nothing  of  his  bizarre  performance.  I  did  know  that  he 
was  a  fine  fellow,  and  that  I  would  do  all  that  lay  in  my 
power  to  succor  him.  i  hastily  left  the  train,  rushed  up  the 
street,  and  was  soon  in  the  centre  of  one  of  the  toughest  free 
fights  I  have  ever  witnessed.  My  engineer  was  fighting 
like  a  tiger,  but  the  odds  were  too  heavy  for  him.  I 
rushed  to  his  rescue  and  knocked  down  the  editor  of  The 
Sleepy  Eye-Opener.  Just  then  I  heard  the  crack  of  a  pistol, 
followed  by  a  sting  in  my  side.  A  moment,  and  I  fell 
unconscious. 


CH  \1TKR   XIII 

KATF.     SLOWPOKE. 

VHEN  I  came  to  myself  I  was  lying  on  a  narrow  bed 
and  the  sound  of  rapidly  moving  cars  was  in  my 
ears.  Evidently  our  train  had  pulled  out  of  the  inhospitable 
town,  but  where  we  were  going  I  could  not  determine,  as 
there  had  not  been  any  route  planned  beyond  Sleepy  Eye. 
As  I  lay  there  I  must  confess  that  I  experienced  a  sort  of 
hope  that  we  were  pointed  for  home.  We  had  done  many 
thousands  of  miles,  and  the  novelty  of  my  toy  train  had 
begun  to  wear  off.  By  it  I  had  become  installed  as  a  sort 
of  public  character,  and  thus  a  harmless — possibly  shallow 
— bit  of  vanity  had  been  gratified  ;  so  I  was  ready  to  return 
to  a  stationary  state  of  existence. 

As  I  lay  there  cogitating,  a  woman  appeared  before  me 
arrayed  in  the  habiliments  of  a  trained  nurse.  Her  cap  and 
apron  were  so  white  that  weak  eyes  would  blink  at  them  ; 
and  such  was  her  air  of  practicality  that,  when  she  did  a 
thing,  you  felt  that  ages  ago  it  had  been  ordained  just  such 
a  thing  should  be  done  at  that  precise  moment,  and  by  that 
particular  woman. 

Our  eyes  met  and  I  was  looking  into  the  comely  face  of 
Kate  Slowpoke. 

"  This,"  said  I,  "  is  the  most  delightful  experience  of  my 
trip." 

"What,  lying  on  your  back,  with  a  bullet  hole  in  your 
side  ?  *'  she  replied,  in  a  tantalizing  way. 

"  No,"  I  answered  hastily — "  I  refer  to  your  being  here, 
and  evidently  one  of  my  fellow  travelers." 

"  You  are  too  weak  to  indulge  in  gallantry,"  said  Kate 
Slowpoke.  "  Now  attend  to  me.  You  are  scheduled  for  a 
long  sleep,  following  your  first  return  to  consciousness." 


66  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  about  sleep  until  I  know  the  circum- 
stances attending  your  becoming  my  nurse/' 

"As  it's  a  short  tale,  I  suppose  I  must  indulge  you. 
Father  and  I  happened  along  just  as  you  fell  in  that  fight; 
and,  aided  by  the  engineer,  we  carried  you  back  to  the 
train,  during  which  journey  I  learned  the  particulars  of 
this  affair.  While,  of  course,  I  was  distressed  at  the  trunk 
episode,  I  recognized  that  you  had  deliberately  risked  your 
life  in  a  frontier  fight,  to  save  one  of  your  men.  It's  an 
easy  thing  for  a  woman  to  give  her  services  for  the  recovery 
of  a  brave  man.  Besides,"  she  added  quickly,  "  my  father 
thinks  there  is  no  one  like  Mr.  Brown  Stone,  and  he  wanted 
me  to  take  charge  of  you  in  my  old  capacity  as  trained 
nurse."  She  checked  herself  while  a  flush  appeared  upon 
her  face.  "  There  are  desperate  characters  in  Sleepy  Eye," 
she  resumed,  "  and  I  feared  they  would  make  trouble,  so  I 
told  your  people  the  train  must  leave  that  place  at  once 
and  with  you  on  board.  Your  ladies  on  this  train,''  con- 
tinued Kate  Slowpoke,  rather  haughtily,  "may  do  for  society 
thrusts,  but  they  could  not  cope  with  wild  west  shots,  so  I 
took  you  in  charge,  and  there  you  have  the  whole  matter. 
Now  swallow  this  medicine,  and  get  that  sleep  or  I  shall 
take  the  first  train  back  to  Sleepy  Eye." 

"  May  the  train  that  takes  you  back  to  Sleepy  Eye  run 
into — " 

"  Run  into  what,  you  murderous  man?"  laughed  Kate 
Slowpoke. 

"  Run  into — run  into  the  editor  of  The  Sleepy  Eye- 
Opener  ?  "  I  concluded  lamely. 

"  Would  you  kill  my  suitor  ?  "  said  Kate  with  mock  horror. 

"  No,  I  would  not  kill  your  suitor,  Miss  Slowpoke,  be- 
cause I  do  not  believe  in  suicide." 

"  Eh  !  How's  that  ?  "  she  replied,  stopping  to  catch  my 
meaning.  She  grasped  the  idea,  and  burst  out  laughing. 
"  Oh,  come  now,  sir,  that'll  never,  never  do  for  an 


THE   STORY   OF    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  67 

invalid  whose  thoughts  should  be  running  on  pills  ami 
lotions  and  salves  and — heigho,  all  this  talk  and  you  need- 
ing sleep  !  Come  now,  sir,  compose  yourself." 

44  One  more  question,"  I  said.  "  Is  this  to  be  one  of  those 
lingering,  long-drawn-out  sicknesses  ?  Will  you  probably 
have  to  nurse  me  for — say  eight  or  nine  months  ?  " 

"You'll  be  on  your  feet  to-morrow,"  replied  Kate  Slow- 
poke, with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye. 

With  a  sigh  I  turned  over  in  my  couch  and  was  soon 
talking  again  to  Kate  Slowpoke — in  my  dreams. 

I  awoke  feeling  much  stronger,  and  on  turning  over  saw 
a  sealed  letter  on  the  table  in  front  of  my  couch.  Another 
glance  showed  it  to  be  directed  to  me,  and  with  con- 
siderable curiosity  I  opened  the  envelope,  finding  therein 
the  following  : 

"  DEAR  MR.  STONE: 

Do  not  think,  because  we  have  not  called  upon  you  and  offered  assist- 
ance, that  we  are  insensible  to  your  suffering.  We  must,  in  justice  to 
ourselves,  explain  that  we  have  not  been  allowed  to  approach  our  beloved 
host;  so  either  the  tyranny  of  the  trained  nurse  or  the  revenge  of  a  spiteful 
woman  (we  haven't  quite  determined  which  ! )  must  be  held  responsible 
for  our  absence. 

We  are  ever  so  sorry  for  you  and  would  be  of  service — if  allowed. 
Mi-i.s  DAWS,  Sin,  KAYKS   HOWES,  HALL. 

"  Why  are  trained  nurses  tyrannical  ? "  I  asked  Miss  Slow- 
poke, as  she  appeared  before  me. 

Glancing  contemptuously  at  the  letter,  as  if  divining  its 
contents,  she  replied,  laconically :  "  Because  so  many 
boobies  want  to  hover  about  our  invalids." 

We  were  soon  on  the  last  few  miles  of  our  journey,  and 
I  was  about  again,  almost  as  spry  as  ever,  although  I 
frequently  warned  Kate  Slowpoke  that,  as  a  trained  nurse, 
she  must  continue  to  watch  over  me,  for  I  had  occasional 
twinges,  and  it  was  too  late  for  me  to  call  them  growing 
pair 


68  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

She  told  me  all  about  her  past  life,  and  one  day 
while  recounting  her  experience  as  a  typewriter,  she 
pointed  to  a  machine  standing  in  the  car  near  us,  and  said 
her  fingers  ached  to  once  more  run  over  the  keys. 

"Suppose  I  dictate  a  letter,"  I  asked.  "I  have  one  that 
I  require  to  send." 

"  That  will  be  great  fun,"  she  replied,  seating  herself  at 
the  typewriter.  She  ran- her  fingers  over  the  keys  for  some 
few  minutes,  and  finally  said  she  was  ready.  This  is  what 
I  dictated  : 

"DEAR  MADAM:  Marriage  has  been  defined  as  a  wild  desire  to 
support  some  other  man's  daughter.  Now,  your  father  has  a  daughter 
whom  I — " 

Kate  Slowpoke  abruptly  ceased  writing  and  looked  at  me. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  she,  "but  are  you  proposing  to  this 
lady?" 

"  Well,  suppose  I  am  !  "  I  queried. 

"  Do  you  think  any  self-respecting  woman  would  be 
satisfied  with  a  case  presented  in  that  manner  ?  Why,  a 
confirmed  woman-hater  couldn't  state  the  matter  in  a 
meaner  way/' 

"I  confess  my  blunder.     Let  us  try  once  more." 

"  Don't  you  think  it  rather  severe  to  make  one  woman 
the  instrument  for  the  conveying  of  a  proposal  to  another 
woman  ?  On  the  whole,  I  think  I  will  not  write  any  more 
on  this  machine/'  and  she  made  a  movement  as  if  to  leave  it. 

"You  must  be  generous  enough  to  give  me  a  chance  to 
retrieve  my  blunder,  you  know/' 

"Oh  well,  if  you  put  it  in  that  shape,  go  ahead,"  said 
Kate  Slowpoke.  She  acted  as  if  she  was  not  quite  sure  of 
her  ground. 

"  DEAR  MADAM  :  "  I  dictated  again,  "  I  am  about  to  end  one  journey 
but  there  is  a  still  longer  one  ahead,  (at  least  I  hope  so)  which  I  would 
like  you  to  share  with  me.  The  journey  I  am  just  completing  is  one  of 
the  new-fangled  ones;  the  other,  which  I  hope  to  take  with  you,  is  as  old 
fashioned  as  Adam  and  Eve.  It  is  a  journey  man  and  woman  like  so 


THE   STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF   CARS.  69 

well  that  they  took  it  before  boat  and  trains  were  known,  before  stage 
coaches  and  sedan  chairs  were  invented;  yes,  before  even  the  first  horse 
had  felt  his  harness.  Will  you  take  Life's  Journey  with  me  ? 

Yours  anxiously, 

BROWN  STONE." 

You  begin  with  'Madam/  Shall  I  address  this  to  some 
widow  ? "  asked  Kate  Slowpoke. 

"  You  must  know  that  'Madam*  can  be  used  for  maidens 
as  well  as  matrons." 

\Vell,  then,  to  what  maiden  shall  I  address  it? " 

"There  is,  or  was,  a  trunk  in  Sleepy  Eye  which  promises 
to  produce  great  results  in  my  life.  Address  this  letter 
to  the  young  lady  whose  name  was  on  that  trunk." 

"And  if  I  do  not  happen  to  know  that  young  person's 
name  ? " 

"The  engineer  of  this  train  can  tell  you,'1  I  replied  with  a 
smile. 


The  last  mile  had  been  covered,  the  Union  Depot  was  in 
sight  and  Mr.  Westinghouse's  brake  was  already  caressing 
the  wheel  of  our  car,  when  Kate  Slowpoke  handed  me  the 
following  brief  reply  to  my  letter  : 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  STONE:  Your  favor  received,  and  in  reply  I  would 
say,  if  you  can  procure  two  through  tickets  for  that  journey,  I  think  I  can 
arrange  to  accompany  you.  KATE  Si.o\vi-« 

The  trip  was  over  and  a  host  of  delightful  memories 
caused  my  fellow  passengers  to  echo  the  huge  sigh  which 
Mr.  Westinghouse's  brake  emitted  as  the  train  finally  stopped. 

As  I  walked  home  I  felt  a  thrill  of  Americanism  every 
time  I  glanced  down  at  my  hand  satchel,  for  its  sides  pro- 
claimed that  I  had  journeyed  in  my  own  land,  and  that  the 
money  spent  en  route  was  now  profiting  my  own  countrymen, 
instead  of  a  horde  of  foreign  mercenaries.  My  satchel  was 


70  THE    STORY    OF    A    TRAIN    OF    CARS. 

plastered  all  over  with  express  labels  in  true  tourist  fashion, 
until  the  bag  looked  like  a  geographical  mosaic  ;  but  none 
of  the  customary  and  oddly  printed  foreign  names — Berlin, 
Paris,  Glasgow,  London,  Edinburgh,  etc. — presented  them- 
selves to  the  public  gaze.  In  their  stead  were  the  good 
American  names  of  places  already  mentioned  in  this  book  ; 
and  the  public  eye  could  decipher  such  a  list  as  this: — 
Calf  Killer,  Sleepy  Eye,  Total  Wreck,  Short  Off,  Tombstone, 
Looking  Glass,  Why  Not,  etc. 


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